


Old Happenings Die Hard

by lanzer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Emotional Hurt, Happy Hogan comforts Peter Parker, Hurt Peter Parker, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, May Parker is a mess, Mentioned Skip Westcott, Past Rape/Non-con, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Happy Hogan, Protective Tony Stark, Recovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony messes up big time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:40:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanzer/pseuds/lanzer
Summary: Peter feels as if his whole existence is being rushed into one night.The only thing he can remember is how he got himself into this mess.But he’ll never forget how loud and unheard his cries for help were.---This is my first fanfic so bear with me.I do not give consent to have my work posted or shared on any other platforms.
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Original Male Character(s), Peter Parker/Skip Westcott
Comments: 33
Kudos: 195





	1. Shirley Temple

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter was re-edited on 2/5/2021.  
> Please feel free to comment! I'd love to read them.  
> Please read the tags!!! Possible TW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter can feel the nausea swell in his stomach.
> 
> Peter knows what's coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, feel free to comment your thoughts or leave kudos...It's always appreciated!  
> I hope this chapter isn't too rushed...yikes!

Tony had brought up the topic of social events and gatherings to Peter multiple times over the past month.

Peter was hesitant at first because the thought of thousands of people surrounding and staring made him uneasy. And the picture of him lost in a crowd while Tony strays further and further away from him…lets just say it isn’t a pleasant one.

After a few weeks of consideration, Peter finally caved.

Tony was pleased to hear that Peter would be attending the gala with him.

He’d get to dress Peter in a suit and tie which is far more exciting to him than it should be, or at least he thought it would be.

Throughout the past year they’ve been working together, side by side, leaving Tony more emotionally open with Peter and feeling a strong need to help and protect him; finally playing into the role of ‘father figure’.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter tapped Tony’s calf with his foot, bringing him out of a deep thought.

Tony answers with a shallow hum. 

He looks over at Peter who’s struggling to button the cuffs on his sleeves and feels a smile tug at his cheeks.

“ I can’t seem to-” Peter cuts himself off before vigorously jabbing at his wrist.

Tony can see the frustration and steps in. He doesn’t need the teen upset before they leave, “ Okay that’s enough of  _ that _ ,” he calls Peter over, “come, let me.” Tony smiles to himself because he can feel his chest fill with something warm.

Peter parts his lips as if he was going to speak, but the pressure in his chest must have changed his mind.

A quiet sound found its way out of his mouth, a faint click of the tongue, an accidental giveaway. Something that happens to everyone. Whether we like it or not, our body betrays us sometimes. Not everyone finds it logical though. Some become emotionally cautious; hoping their internal plea wasn’t unearthed.

Tony glanced up at him, expecting something to follow. The expression he was wearing, whatever it may have been, persuaded Peter to get out what he wanted to say the first time around.

Something he often saw happen between the two. A simple exchange of certain expressions could lead to a whole conversation.

They mostly used this when working in the lab. Sending a message without losing concentration to specify a question.

Tony waits for Peter to say something while he finishes up, yanking the blazer further down Peter’s arm, holding onto his wrists gently, swinging them back and forth and eventually letting them collide. A childish manner he picked up from who knows where. Maybe it was the caregiving mentality finally getting comfortable.

“Tell me kid, whats on your mind?” Peter keeps his gaze on the small touch lamp sitting at the corner of Tony’s nightstand. 

“You’ve been…how do I say this,” 

“Wiry.” He makes a weird motion with his hand. 

Peter scoffs before reminding Tony of the time. They should really get going.

Tony checked his watch and got up to exit the room.

“Ah, wait just one sec Mr.Stark!” Peter exclaimed as he zipped into the bathroom.

After a few thuds and clinks from Peter's direction, Tony decided it’s best if he had a peek. A friendly observation, really. Making sure his stuff doesn’t get too scattered. Not that it isn’t already.

He leans against the door’s frame. Arms crossed and brows raised.

Behold, what a sight. “Woah there Pete, don’t go around killing your hair like that!” He cringed, unable to stand seeing the large amount of gel Peter’s raking through his hair.

Peter dramatically sighs when one of his curls pops up from behind his ear. Tony can’t help but shudder at Peter’s terrible styling. He doesn't even need any gel, his curls are just fine.

But he definitely wasn’t going to tell Peter that now, it wouldn’t change his mind, if anything, it would just frustrate him all the more. He already put in the gel and even if they washed it out, his hair would then be wet. He doubts Peter would want to show up to the gala with wet hair.

Tony finds himself standing next to Peter, happy to help. He rummages around for a comb and manages to find a bright green plastic one.

“This will do.” He says, running some water over it. He ran the wet comb through Peter's hair, trying his best to dilute the gel. Peter instantly ducked his head down and waved away Tony’s hand.

“What are- how is that gonna help? If anything, you just made it slimy! Gross!” Peter squirmed forward, getting up close to the mirror. He attempted to tuck in all his escapees.

Tony raised his hands in a defensive manner, shrugging with a blunt “Just trying to help, kid.”

“Forget it, we’re gonna be late.” Peter hangs his head in defeat. 

A preempt silence hangs in the air.

The faucet drips once or twice into the sink before the silence breaks. Tony playfully bumps him, “ Personally, I prefer the curls.” 

At that, Peter scrunches his brows. Mostly in ‘are you kidding me? I look like a fourth grader’ and some of ‘well why didn’t you just say so’. Peter has yet to get used to Tony’s opinionated and spontaneous inputs. Whether it be late at night in the lab and he gets a  _ spectacular _ idea to rebuild and modify one of his robots, or in a situation like now; When he finally decides to speak his mind,  _ after _ the fact.

“Happy’s gonna shit himself if we’re not in the car by half-past.” Tony shows Peter the way. “Let’s get this show on the road.”Peter speeds towards the door, tucking his hair back.

Tony stumbles behind him trying to keep up. “ He’s like a damn gazelle,”

“Wait for  _ me,  _ dammit!”

-

-

-

-

-

-

Peter fidgets with his sleeves, swirling his fingers around the edges.He couldn’t find a loose string like he would have on his hoodie so he made do with what he had. The suit was too well tailored to find any fidget-worthy flaws.

“ What am I supposed to do in there? I’ve never been to  _ anything  _ like this before. I just…don’t think it's a good idea.”

“What do you mean by that, bud? Having second thoughts already?” He shifts himself so he can see Peter's face.

“ Do I ju-just stand there and smile, or do I have to, have to say things out loud, to…people...” he trailed off. Tony tried to comfort Peter by telling him they’ll stay together the whole time, no speeches required. Especially not from Peter.

Tony knows how frantic Peter can get when under pressure. It’s not a pretty sight, never is. “You’ll do great Peter. I'm sure of it.” Happy chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. But mostly dropping a hint for Tony to encourage the kid a little more. He ended up unsuccessful because Tony just turned back around and carried on staring out at the road.

“Thanks, Happy.” the boy let out a shaker breath. Just a couple minutes until they arrive. “ I won’t let you down, I promise.” He reassures them, but mostly himself.

Peter looks out the window, in awe of how many lights there are.

There it is. Across the way, he can see it. Each structure covered in beautiful strands of creamy radiance. He can feel his mouth agape. And if he couldn’t, Tony’s grin was enough to figure it out.

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

They arrived about five minutes ago and Happy and Tony have been trying their best to talk Peter into going inside. Peter had a re-realization soon after they arrived that all these people were strangers and he would be giving them all a first impression.

What if he says something wrong? What if Tony feels embarrassed of him? His confidence was slowly being polished away, revealing his insecure and broken shell.

Peter insists they go in without him. He tells them he doesn’t mind waiting. In fact he encourages them to take as much time as they need. He really doesn’t mind.

Tony ends up making a ‘we go in with you or we don’t go in at all’ bargain. He knew just the right way to guilt trip Peter. Tony wasn’t proud of it but he wanted the kid to come across something new for a chance. 

Something out of his comfort zone.

Instead of being an overworked-student-superhero.

Tony wanted nothing more than to give Peter a normal chance at life. Not that attending a gala at the age of fifteen and being Spider-Man is considered normal, but if bringing Peter would lead to an experience that could possibly open a new part of him that he hasn’t let anyone see yet, then so be it.

And with that, they coaxed Peter out of the car and into the chaos. Once they got in and were cleared of the paparazzi, Peter was able to take a look at this bizarre place. Peter’s eyes gleamed at Tony when he saw the amount of gold diligently scattered across the ceiling. It was his first time seeing something so  _ extravagant _ .

Tony hoped Peter's smile may never fade, for it is and forever will be, the key to his happiness.

Before they even get a chance to discuss plans for the night, Tony’s being bombarded with old acquaintances, some he doesn’t even recall coming in contact with. But that’s Tony all right; meet, reconcile, and forget. 

He’s too busy with other, more important things than to keep up with old and probably useless connections.

“Lo and behold, Tony Stark in the flesh,” One of the larger men surrounding them offered out his hand. Tony shook it with no interest whatsoever. Like it was just a simple task that would get him one step closer to the night's end.

“How unusual for you. Arriving on time for once and with what seems to be a youngster at your side.” The large man spared a quick glance at the young boy, not seeming too interested as to know who he was.

Peter kept his eyes on his shoes. Not wanting to leave an open invitation to strike any conversation. He didn’t know how he would respond. Either mix up his words and bring his stutter to light or blurt out something totally _ stupid _ .

Both found an internally cruel way to mock him.

He lingered around Tony’s side, holding back the urge to latch onto him and never let go. Peter knew he would have to say something eventually but for now he decided to let Tony do the talking and enjoy his uninvolvement.

Peter wanted so badly to drag Tony away from all these people and have some time alone with him. Maybe watch a movie or do a practice run of an imaginary attack they’d spent making up for days on end just to keep their boredom at bay.

He needed to start thinking positive and make the best of the situation because it’s going to be a long while until they go home.

Their conversation had been going on for a few minutes. The things they said to each other made no sense to Peter so he didn’t bother to try and listen. He doubted the man talking to Tony Stark would even address him in the conversation. It was probably all business-y stuff anyway.

Before long, Peter’s boredom got the best of him. The itch to get away from the dreary conversation Tony and the large man were having was getting unmanageable. He never knew how boring it could be as a third wheel because he was either not in the group having the conversation, or he’s the main topic in the ‘Peter shouldn’t go on this mission’ discussion, which he rarely was able to give his opinion on.

“Mr.Stark,” Peter tries to spit out between one of the breaks in their back and forth banter. “I’m gonna go get something to drink. I'm getting a little thirsty.” He smiled at the large man. He hoped he wasn’t being rude. Peter was many things, funny? Maybe. Smart? Most definitely. Blatantly rude? Never in a million years. 

Tony rests his hand on Peter’s shoulder, “Excuse us for a minute.”

_Wait, I’m sorry, don’t-_ He wasn’t _trying_ to break their conversation.

“No Mr.Stark, it’s okay! You really don’t have to,” He gave Tony a double thumbs up. “I’ll probably just stay at the bar, so don’t worry. I wouldn’t wanna take you away from your friends.” He gives Tony an etched smile. 

But Tony being Tony, waves away at Peter’s remark, making Peter feel even more sorry. “It’s all good, I’ll get a drink too while we’re there.” He turns his back to the larger man just like that, pulling Peter to his side and bringing his voice to a whisper, “That dude was rotting my ears anyway. You’re my savior,” 

He spoke up once again when he saw Peter’s tense posture, “Really though, I do need a drink. This damn thing isn’t going to be ending anytime soon.” The guilt minimized but what if Tony was just saying that to make him feel less troubled?

At least he would get the alone time with Tony that he was craving. Even if it’s around many others, he’s there; making an effort to be around Peter.

Peter sat down at the bar and Tony leaned against the counter. There was only a few people at the bar and most of them were standing. “Whatcha thinking, Pete?” Tony gently tapped his fingers on the glossy, chilled wood.

Peter didn’t really think about that before. His mind was more focused on relieving his ears from that old man’s loud voice.

“What can I get for you fellas?” The bartender politely asks while he wipes off one of the many glasses from below the counter. Peter scans the back wall of the bar but is left with nothing when all the options are alcohol. He can’t seem to lay his eyes on any plausible drinks. He was about to disregard his thirst and just hang out but then Tony saved him once again.

“He’ll have a Shirley Temple.” He glances over at Peter, seeking approval. No response so he improvises,“These things were like crack when I was your age.”

Peter smiles and nods. He’s heard of Shirley Temples before and how they taste  _ so _ good and usually come with a few cherries. Peter really liked cherries after May practically raised him with a certain palate, mainly consisting of take-out and the occasional healthy choice of cherries or apples. 

He’s also heard how it’s pretty much just Sprite and cherry juice. Such little ingredients for a supposedly good drink. He’s always wanted to try one but never got the chance, only crossing his mind now.

Peter will finally get to know what it tastes like.

Tony had given Peter yet another opportunity, small yet compelling.

Tony ended up ordering iced-water with lemon. He decided his best interest would be not to drink alcohol. Unlike his original notion. He never liked to drink around Peter, It didn’t matter if they’d become closer. And after seeing how stressed out Peter’s been throughout their time being here, he wasn’t about to worsen it by being unstable and  _ drinking. _

It just wasn't right, he’d decided.

He squeezed the juice from his lemon onto the ice and swirled it around a few times with his finger. He sucked off the water from his finger, he could see Peter out of his preferral making a grossed out face.

“What?” He gawked.

Peter makes an ‘are you kidding me Mr.Stark?’ face scrunch , one Tony knows oh-so-well.

“I know where my hands have been, Pete.  _ They’re clean _ .” He wiggles his fingers at Peter.

Peter giggles.

He  _ giggles. _

“You’re too much Mr.Stark. Where did you even come from?” Peter asks jokingly, not expecting a response.

Tony shrugs, “Far, far, away. From a land called ‘shits and giggles’.”

Peter was about to thank Tony for the drink but he was cut off, “Stark! Thank god. Finally, I’ve been on my own little manhunt!”

These people sure do like to talk. Peter’s sure there are plenty of people who  _ don’t _ have nice things to say about Mr.Stark.  _ They’re just jealous _ , he tells himself,  _ Mr.Stark has worked hard for what he has and some people want everything but expect not to work a day in their life,  _ Peter never understood why people were like that.

He wondered what people would say to  _ him _ if they knew he was Spider-Man. Would they pick on him further for being such a nobody as himself? Or would they shudder at his name, being wary about his presence.

There couldn’t be any in between, not with the people at his school. He didn’t think it was possible for the bullying to stop or for people at his school to treat him like a real person; without being hesitant around him. 

Peter wanted to be noticed for being different and kind and brilliant. Not because he was Spider-Man. And definitely not because he could do things no other regular human being could do. Peter often wondered why it was so hard for some people to just be  _ nice. _

_ Maybe I did something wrong _ , he’s thought to himself while being shunned away by classmates. But nevertheless, he still finds a way to be himself no matter how hurtful people can be to him. He will never let them get the best of him. Plus, he has Tony now, someone he trusts, someone who takes him as he is and accepts him with everything he has.

The lengthy man that called out to Tony weasels himself out from within the crowd. Literally clawing his way to Tony, they both find themselves cringing at how desperate the man looked. Men and women alike, grunting and swearing under their breaths at the impolite man.

“It’s a pleasure.” The man grabs Tony’s hand and shakes it, and like the first time, Tony leaves his arm limp; letting himself be shaken like a rag doll.

He and Peter stare at the lengthy man questionably. The man stares right back but with more intensity, catching an eye full of Peter before he tugs at Tony’s now stiff arm, “Let’s talk elsewhere, Stark.” 

Tony looks over his shoulder at Peter.

“Go ahead Mr.Stark,” He shares a warm smile, ignoring the desperate plea in the back of his head, “I’ll be right here, enjoying my Shirley Temple.” With Peter’s assurance, Tony steps away into the crowd with the man slightly behind him, asserting that they are not equals.

Peter’s on his own for now. He swivels back around on the bar stool with a deep sigh, facing his much awaited Shirley Temple. It looks like the only thing keeping him company now was the drink that sat in front of him, dripping with condensation.

He leaned forwards and looked into the glass. He could see two cherries being held down by a group of clumped together ice cubes.  _ Really? Come on.  _ Peter presses his lips to the rim of the glass cup and takes his first ever sip of a shirley temple.

It’s so sweet.

So  _ good. _

His face beams at the new flavor he’s unearthed for his taste buds. Not wanting to drink it all in a few seconds, he decides to set it back down, knowing his lack of self control would get the best of him. Peter inched his glass away. Signaling to his brain that he’s had enough for the time being.

-

Peter noticed how the lights in the bar’s backdrop change colors. Because last time he checked, they were blue. And now that he takes a closer look, he’s caught them right when they're transitioning; from a calm white to a lime green.

Peter glances at the bottles of liquor shelved on the wall. Not because he’s wishing he had some but because the names and dates printed on the labels intrigued him. He questioned the history behind each bottle, where and even how were they made, he wondered. After all, a gala like this would only accept the best of the best, right?

“Quite the variety, isn't it?” An older man takes a seat on Peter’s right.

The boy found it odd that the man chose the spot right next to him. After all, there were  _ plenty _ of other bar stools that weren’t being used.

“Yah. Yes! Yes there is.” 

The man smirks at him and Peter can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand.

“That’s odd” he rubs the nape. 

“Pardon?” The man readjusted his upper body so that he was giving Peter his full attention.

_ Oh. Didn’t mean to say that out loud. _

“Oh, um, nothing sir. Sorry.” Peter takes another sip of his shirley temple, just as sweet as the last. “I’m, my name’s Peter. Nice to meet you, sir.” He politely introduced himself, hoping to get a conversation going to make up for the lack of company.

The man reaches out his hand, offering to shake it with Peter’s, “Likewise. Abraham, my name that is.” he says, almost mockingly. 

_ Like the president? _

Peter shakes the man's hand. His spidey-sense; now apparent. He thinks of it differently this time because he feels that since he came here with Tony, he can ease up a bit. No one would do anything bad with Iron Man in the proximity.

Peter tried to ignore it. Something he’s yet to bring himself to do before. Maybe he could make a friend for the night that might possibly make time go by a little faster. Something he could make positive about being distant from Mr.Stark.

The two begin to chat. 

At the most just some small talk. Enough for Peter to see that Abraham isn’t such a bad guy. His spidey-senses must’ve been wrong, he told himself.

They don’t exchange any personal information, mainly just discuss their interests and hobbies; that is until Abraham asks Peter a considerably tender question.

“How old are you?” He asks nonchalantly.

“Um,” his eyes flickered about Abraham’s face, looking for something to go off of.

“ Fifteen.” The teen states, figuring it to be idle conversation.

On the other hand, the man almost loses his composure, bringing his hand up to his chin, digging into it, “Oh my. What are you doing in a place like this, and at such a young age?”

Peter laughs a little when he thinks of Mr.Stark, “Well the thing is, I came with my mentor slash boss? Someone really important to me.” He didn’t need to share the fact that he thought of Mr.Stark as more.

Abraham leans in closer with a look that Peter can’t dissect, “And where would  _ they _ be? I don't see anyone around mentoring you.” The man irks a laugh.

“They’re, well they’re, pretty busy. He’s talking with some friends that he hasn't seen in a long time.” He goes to take another sip of his shirley temple but his head advises him not to. Maybe there’s a little too much sugar in the drink.

_ Okay Peter, way too much sugar,  _ he tells himself as his throat joins in with discomfort.

Abraham notices Peter hesitantly staring at his drink. “Would you like something else to drink? My treat.”

Peter denies his offer, explaining to him that he feels ill. Water would just make him feel worse, filling his stomach even more.

“ Do you need to use the restroom? Are you nauseous at all?”

Peter nods, “ Just, just a little. I’ll be fine, but thanks.” He stopped to rub at his temples.

Abraham had risen out of his seat. “Come with me, Peter.” The man insisted. Peter turned with the chair as he watched Abraham walk to the other side of him. He felt a little uneasy when his spider-sense started up again, “No thank you. Really sir,  _ I’m fine _ .” Peter says more firmly.

Peter can tell Abraham doesn't like his response because next thing he knows, his arm’s being hooked onto and he’s being tugged towards the man. And that’s when the gut feeling set in.

“I promise you’ll feel better. Just relax kiddo.”

Feeling there’s no way out of this, he hops off the stool and begins to walk with him. His spidey-sense won’t stop screaming. Peter tries to slowly ease his way out of the man’s grip hoping he wont notice to the point where Peter can completely pull his arm away and walk back to the bar where other people would be present.

Peter becomes more apparent when he and Abraham are only a few feet away from the restroom door. “ _ Sir _ , you’re, can't we just go back? Please?.” Peter squeals.

The man snickers and kicks open the restroom door with his foot. True panic claws at Peter’s insides, “ What’re you doing? Stop!  _ Let me go _ !” Peter squirms in Abraham’s grip, “I said let me go!”

Peter’s heart is racing because he has no idea what’s going to happen next. All these terrible thoughts flood in.

Where was Tony?

Why wasn’t Tony helping him?

Did Tony even notice his absence from the bar?

An intense fear consumes Peter. And the fact that he immediately looks at Tony for the only help, and not his own strength, scares him. He knows himself all too well, that Peter Parker is  _ not _ Spider-Man. Peter Parker is in no such position to get himself together right now, not under this new form of pressure.

He bangs and bangs on the man's arm along with frantic pulls that should have worked him free by now if it wasn’t for his nerves being on end.

_ Skip.  _ An intrusive thought, one he’d almost erased for good.

His buried past came rising to the surface quicker than the fear that found him. A whole new train of thoughts following after.

Why would Peter allow this to happen to himself?

Why wasn’t he fighting back harder, stronger, better?

Common Peter, remember what happened? 

_ Don’t you remember? _

As if Peter's efforts were nothing, Abraham shoves him into the first available stall. He stumbles backwards, catching himself on the toilet.

This is happening.

This is real.

_ Please don’t let it. Please don’t let it happen. _

It’s amazing how fast he was able to pick up on what was happening, as soon as the man started to head for the restroom, the quick thought,  _ don’t let him get you in there alone,  _ zipped through his mind.

This was something beyond Peter’s control. It wasn’t personal, it wasn’t planned, and it wasn’t directed. This wasn’t Skip, he wasn’t as defenseless as he used to be. He knows that. He’s Spider-Man now.

_ “Be good for me, Einstein, just like that...good, good.” _

He’s back, in the dimmed bedroom, the same fear he felt when Skip lied on top of him came rushing back. Peter can’t afford to let himself be eaten alive by his thoughts, he has to work quickly. He picked up on a few things after it had happened, analyzing the outcome if he’d done just  _ one  _ thing different. It had consumed the boy for years until he was finally able to shove it deep down where he could forget about it  _ permanently.  _ Or so he thought.

He’s losing time.

The man had already locked the stall door.

He’s trapped.

Trapped alone with this frightening man.

“Please! Stop!” his chest heaved with each breath, "Stay b-back, away, stay away!”

_ “P-Please Skip...n-‘o! I don’ wanna! St-stop it!” _

Peter opens his mouth to scream but Abraham doesn’t plan on letting his efforts go to waste. Abraham stomps Peter in the face which sends him back to the wall like a bomb had just gone off. Peter raised his arms in defense, dismissing the throbbing pain in his nose. He’s grabbed by the man and slammed into the stall repeatedly.

The man’s soft and kind persona completely shattered, just like Skip’s did... _ just- like- Skip’s _ .

_ “We’re gonna play a game now. And since we’re best friends, you have to or else that means you don’t want to be my friend anymore. You wouldn’t want that, right?”  _

Peter struggles to gather his thoughts.

He fights to keep himself awake.

The first kick practically sent him unconscious. The cruel man repeatedly punched Peter’s side while pressing him against the stall. The boy’s at a huge disadvantage because he’s positioned with his back facing Abraham.

Not to mention Abraham has his knees lodged between Peter’s thighs. Not leaving Peter much space to work with in terms of escaping.

This time around, as If speaking casually of it, feels even worse for Peter because he already has past trauma and now he’s reliving and living it at the same time and it’s  _ tearing him apart. _

The teen flails his arms behind him with the small energy he’s wound up.

_ “No-! stop-stop! It h-hur-hurts! I-It hurts! N-no more...S-Sk-” _

Doing so earns him another face-meets-stall. Peter groans in agony from his bleeding nose.

“Please,” trembling all alone.

_ “Please, I wan’ go ho-ome!” _

The blood drips steadily onto his chest, painting his already flushed skin a darker shade of red.

“Enough.” Abraham growls. The man snags Peter’s ear with his sizable fingers, earning himself a yelp of protest from Peter, “You’re  _ mine _ now. No need to waste your energy, boy.  _ You’re _ going  _ nowhere _ .” He hissed.

_ “Don’t tell anyone, Einstein, okay? If you do you’ll get in trouble and then we won’t be able to hang out anymore. You won’t have a friend anymore if you tell, now walk normal for god’s sake...be a big boy like they say you are.” _

His shirt is tugged on and he’s dying inside because this is so much worse than being beat up by a bad guy he’d run into on a late night patrol or...or- it’s like he’s reliving Skip, his hands... _ everywhere. _

Emotionally degrading is an understatement.

“Get off! Leave me alone  _ please. Please stop- _ ”

Abraham grabs Peter’s neck tightly with his left hand, tracing up Peter’s inner thigh with his other. “We’re gonna have so much fun Peter. I’m getting hard just thinking about it!” The man's voice becomes sickening to Peter.

_ “Just you wait, Einstein, you’ll be begging for more once I'm done with you.” _

He pants heavily next to Peter’s ear, then he’s grinding up against Peter. Peter thuds to the wall with every contact. He can feel the smoggy warmth of his breath projecting off the wall and back into his face.

_ He’s just like Skip. _

“No, no, stop I-I’m begging you,  _ please sto-op!” _

He inhales sharply as the man reaches in between his legs. A large hand cups around Peter’s member through his heavily creased pants.

“Beg all you want, I’m still here.”

_ “No one can hear you, Einstein, so just shut up and let me feel you. That’s it...god you’re so perfect Peter. Better...ugh...so much better than I thought.” _

Peter can’t control his tears. The sobs harshly erupt from within him, releasing years of pain along with them.

He tries.

He tries so hard to get someone's attention from the outside.

He cries and shouts but all is unheard.

“Why are you, you doing thi-is?”

“Why not?” the man snickers.

“It’s not r-right! Y-You know it’s not!” He wants to curl in on himself as the hand begins to travel with more intensity. Abraham loses his patients with the never ending rambles and pleas. He unbuckles his belt and zips down his fly and when Peter hears the familiar, haunting sound, he freezes.

_ “This is the best part of the game, Einstein. Just put your head on the pillow, count to three while you're at it, get ready for me because this game’s about to get a whole lot more interesting.” _

Peter can feel the bile rise at the base of his throat.

Peter  _ knows _ what's coming.

————

“Excuse me for a moment. We’re gonna have to finish this another time.” Tony sets his drink down on a nearby table with no intent to finish it. He feels bad for leaving Peter by himself for what felt like an eternity.

He and the lengthy man from earlier picked the far corner to talk. The bar was slightly visible from there. Mostly the reason behind Tony agreeing to it. So when he turns and doesn’t see what he’s looking for, he hesitantly struts towards the bar, taking a quick look around, hoping to find Peter hidden somewhere in the crowd.

Coming up empty handed, Tony’s anxiety starts to kick in. Without fail, when he can’t seem to find an answer for himself, he turns to Happy. To this  _ day,  _ Tony refuses to call it advice. He turns his back to the bar and makes his way to the small archway where Happy stands grumpily.

Ironic isn’t it.

Happy catches the sight of Tony bee lining his way through the clusters of people and instantly gets a bad feeling about it. Happy speed walks to meet Tony halfway. Vacating his designated sulking sector.

“What happened? Is it a threat? Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me, I was finally getting used to this god-awful place.” He complains.

Tony smacks his clammy hand on Happy’s shoulder with force. Before Happy could say anymore, Tony’s spewing out what sounds like nonsense.

“I can’t, he just…he would have told me, It wasn’t even  _ that long _ but now,” Tony manages while his heart rate continuously rises. 

“Hey, take a breath Tony. Spit it out properly, I walked all the way over to you for this.”

Happy, being Happy, still kids. Even when he himself is in a bad situation, part of the reason why the two of them get along so well.

“ I Can't find Peter.” 

It does sound worse out loud. Worse than he actually thought. It makes it so real. It’s no longer in your head when you voice it. It’s out there, in the openness of reality.

“Well he couldn’t have gone far. Have you even walked around? Walked through places that you can’t see into just by a quick pass?”

Nope. How could Tony even think rationally when Peter’s nowhere to be seen. It's an immediate fight or flight response when your kid goes missing.

“But he _wouldn’t_ have gone anywhere, that’s my point! He promised me. You know Pete, he doesn’t just _break_ promises.”

Happy could hear the rising concern in Tony’s voice.

Something he’s only ever heard once in a blue moon.

“Tony, take a deep breath. The kid didn’t leave or get kidnapped. Kidnappers usually don’t take males. Especially kids.”

_ Are you fucking kidding me Hap? _

“That is _exactly_ what they do! That’s all _they_ _ever_ fucking do!”

Kidnapping. He didn’t address that thought prior to coming here. He should have, it’s always a risk when being an important person or a public figure. Why  _ didn’t  _ he think about that? Not that Peter Parker was a public figure but if people saw how close he and Peter were, Peter could become prey, leverage, a target. But now, well good fucking luck trying to let that mention go.

“Maybe he’s just using the bathroom. Ever think of  _ that? _ Huh, Tony?”

He didn’t really consider anything remotely positive. How could anything positive come from a missing Peter? But really, he should probably check the bathroom. It’s the likeliest of places the teenager could have gone.

“I’ll be right back.” Tony scoffs.

He swiftly turns around to head to the bathroom after seeing Happy’s ‘I thought so’ glare. He didn’t mind, he was just grateful his friend brought him back to his senses.

The same thought loops in Tony’s head.

He’s going to be there, he’s going to be there, he’s-

Standing at the restroom door, Tony hesitates, his hand hovers in front of the stainless steel hand plate.

What if when he opens the door Peter isn’t there?

Will he have to send out his own search party while being a jumbled parental mess?

What if he took too long and Peter’s dead in a ditch somewhere?

Now more than ever, Tony needed to be in the moment. He needed to put all those loud thoughts behind him. With a swift motion the door swings open nearly striking the paper towel dispenser hanging on the wall.

————

Peter could hear the man reach into his newly stretched pants. Meanwhile, Peter was shifting up against the stall to try and hoist his pants back up from where they sat below his butt. His underwear was just barely covering his front.

The boy felt as if his whole existence was being rushed into one night. The only thing he could remember is how he got himself into this mess and the endless hands of Skip and Abraham dancing all over his body.

But he’ll never forget how loud and unheard his cries for help were. As he stands there quietly whimpering, with tears racing down his cheeks, he can feel Abrahams bare member touch his skin.

Peter takes a sharp inhale as if he had been punched yet another time.

Peter violently jolts upward when Abraham rubs his stiffened member between Peter’s cheeks.

_ “This would be a lot easier for the both of us if you’d just stop squirming like a fucking tadpole.” _

“Get it over with already” Peter hopelessly plead. Not even a whisper. It was likely to go unheard if not for Abraham having his face stuffed into the crease of Peter’s neck.

Peter just wants this intense fear to leave his side, he wants the worst part to be over with. It feels as if a vice is planted in his chest. Peter doesn’t want this to happen, he just wants it to end. He wants to go back to Tony. He can forget about it, like he did with Skip. He can shove this memory and the pain that comes along with it deep down inside. 

No one has to know.

Not even May.

Peter doesn’t want them to know how he let it happen, how he just  _ gave in. _ Peter doesn’t have to feel bad for himself, he shouldn’t have to drag others down with him because he was too stupid to recognize the red flags.

What would this mean for him later on?

_ “You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, nor embarrassed about. You had the right to tell him no, and when he didn’t stop, that was his fault Peter, not yours. You are a child. None of this is your fault Peter, you have to know that.”  _ Ben would say.

Right now he just wants to end it by giving in, but how is that going to help him?

Then it’ll be true.

It’ll be true that Peter allowed this to happen to himself, it’d be true that it’s Peter’s fault, he practically told the man to rape him, to get it over with. And if Peter did, how would he  _ ever  _ be even  _ remotely _ close to being as brave as Spider-Man? That’s just the thing, he wouldn’t be, not if he let himself give up. Spider-Man never gives up, no matter what he’s up against, no matter the struggle.

“No-wait, wait! Stop!” His voice hoarse from endless cries. Abraham forcefully pressed his lower half against Peter and for the first time, Peter  _ screamed _ .

Almost on queue, the stall door tears open, making a loud  _ bang,  _ causing Peter to tense up.

Peter has a chance.

An opening to save himself.

Abraham is quick to move and cups his hand over Peter’s mouth.

_ “Quiet down, Einstein, your voice is gonna wake the neighbors. Wouldn’t want them tattling on us now would we?” _

_ ———— _

Tony looked below the only occupied stall and found two pairs of feet. He smirked, rolling his eyes at the fond memory. But sparing a second glance was soon to bring him down from his high horse.

Tony’s heart dropped to his stomach. To his horror his eyes were met with a familiar pair of shoes, the ones he gave Peter as a gift to wear to the event. A distinct pair of custom leather flats. Tony knows that it’s bad when he’s ripping the stall door open with his activated gauntlet.

He stared in disbelief at the sight in front of him.

Peter, who has a mixture of blood and tears dripping down his face with his pants pulled down, is being pinned against the stall by a middle aged man who’s dick is out. A split second decision was made and soon enough Tony was grabbing Abraham by the hair and dragging him off of Peter and out of the stall.

_ “ I’ll chop your fucking dick off.”  _ He growled _. _

“You sick fucker, get your fucking hands off my kid!” Tony shouts in absolute fury. He hurls Abraham to the floor and his skull makes a sickening crack that echoes throughout the chilled -but now seemingly hot- room.

Peter looked at Tony and his legs gave out. The boy knows he’s safe now because Tony’s here and when Tony’s around, everything seems safe to Peter, so why does his body stagger?

Peter’s butt hits the cold floor, making him buck his hips upward, he yanks up his pants before Tony could see how bad it was. But Tony had already seen the small Peter pressed up against the stall and he’ll never be able to get it out of his head. 

The image toxicates his brain as he repeatedly punches the likely unconscious man with his metal fist. Peter stares at Tony’s back in fright as he brutally rams his gauntlet into his attacker.

“You  _ sick _ son of a bitch.”

Tony gives one last hit to the man’s busted open face.

———

Peter doesn’t say anything, he just sits there on the cold floor trembling and crying with panic in his breath. He wants to go home and forget about all of this because he knows it will tear him apart inside the more he thinks about it. The more he thinks about the ways he could’ve avoided it.

Peter was doing so well.

He almost stopped thinking about it every now and then when he runs into someone who’s a naturally touchy individual or when he gets invited to a friends house and their parents aren’t home. He was getting through it just fine without telling anyone. May, Ben and some doctors and officers were the only ones that knew and Peter wanted to keep it that way.

But now, Peter knows he’s going to have to spill everything he’s kept hidden away from Tony and just the thought of Tony’s expression when he tells him  _ terrifies _ Peter. Everything he’s been fine dealing with on his own is going to resurface and kick him square in the ass. He dreaded this in his worst nightmares.

What if he completely backtracks?

Peter knows he’s done for. He  _ knows it. _

**_——_ ** **—**

Tony turned around to Peter and his face immediately melted into deep concern. Tony doesn’t know what to say in this situation, in  _ any _ situation as awful as this.

“Peter, fuck. I- Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Tony mentally smacked himself, “Of course you’re not okay.  _ Fuck.”  _ Tony stepped over Abrahams limp leg and into the busted stall where Peter sat shaking. He immediately knelt down next to Peter.

“Kid, tell me he didn’t-” Peter shook his head heavily, clutching his knees to his chest, his knuckles inviting the white absence of blood to his skin. Tony brought his hand to Peter’s knee, barely touching him. Being touched is probably the last thing Peter wants right now.

The boy flinches away at first, uncertain of the demeanor. Tony doesn’t blame him, the kid must be petrified. How could he let this happen to Peter?

Tony goes into a self-blaming spiral thinking of all the ways he could have prevented this from happening to Peter. If he had just stayed with the kid like he planned to. Like he  _ wanted  _ to, he so badly wanted to be there to calm Peter’s nerves and to joke about the lack of intellect in the conversations some people were having. To be  _ there  _ for his kid.

Tony felt a warm and gentle touch. He looked down in surprise to his hand and came to see Peter fidgeting with his pinky. Squishing it and picking at his nail whilst his tears dry. His lip was quivering and his hands were trembling underneath Tony’s touch.

Peter still hadn’t said anything which started to worry Tony that this bastard  _ really _ hurt Peter. “Kid, don’t drown yourself in your thoughts.” Tony wanted to hold the kid close and tell him how it was going to be okay but Tony didn’t want to lie to him. And telling Peter that things are okay when they obviously aren’t will just hurt Peter even further. 

Tony knows that feeling all too well. How was he going to help Peter deal…no, get through this? He himself has too many problems to keep up with so how is he going to help Peter when he can’t even help himself? Tony doesn’t know exactly what happened between the man and Peter, but he has a pretty damn good idea.

He clasps Peter’s hand and guides him to a standing position. “Let’s get you out of here, Pete. Up and at em’... there ya go, bud. We’re going back home, to the tower.” Tony didn’t want Peter to walk by himself because he was unsure how long he’d be able to  _ stay _ up if he can even stand, that is.

Tony hooked Peter’s arm around his neck and pulled Peter to his side, supporting his weight even though it puts some unwanted pressure to the base of his spine.

———

Happy looked on in confusion as he saw Tony walking out from the dark hallway, holding Peter up, whose feet are scuffing up against one another, occasionally finding their way dangerously close to Tony’s unbelievably expensive shoes.

“What the hell happened?” Happy whispers to himself in concern as he ran towards the two. When he finally got close enough he could see a mixture of fresh and dried blood underneath Peter’s nose.

“Peter are you -”

“No. He is _not_ _okay_ , dammit. Get the car _now._ ”

People in the crowd started to whisper around at the scene that was playing out in front of them. They had no clue why Tony Stark was holding up a seemingly young and bloodied boy.

Tony didn’t care what he heard them say. He could clear it up later but not give the whole story, just that he found Peter in a quarrel with another man from the gala. That’s all that they’d get out of him anyway. No way was he going to jeopardize Peter in any way, shape, or form. It wouldn’t be hard to clear his name.

That’s only what he’d tell the press though, not his personal lawyers. His sworn in lawyers would get the whole story, every last bit to make sure that fucker gets what he deserves.

Tony already had FRIDAY notify the police of an assault and that the culprit would most likely be in the same spot as he left him; busted the hell up and out cold on the bathroom floor.

That man won’t see the light of day and Tony will make sure of it.

_ Tony will see to it that Peter’s safe. _


	2. Most If Not All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Peter knew is that he was scared.
> 
> He thought it was happening all over again, he was reliving it, he felt like he was never going to be able to escape it.
> 
> Like his body’s a broken record, playing every hand and breath in sequence, over and over again.
> 
> The only way to stop the music is to remove the record, but what would removing the record mean for Peter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was re-edited on 2/5/2021.  
> I have a tendency to mix up my tenses( Past, present, etc.)  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!  
> Thank you for reading :)  
> The following songs are what I recommend you listen to while reading this series.--  
> *Bleed-Frank Carter & The Rattlesnakes  
> *Bruises-Lewis Capaldi  
> *Promise Not To Fall-Human Touch  
> *Dream on- Boyce Avenue  
> *I Can't Carry This Anymore-Anson Seabra  
> *I'm Sorry-Richard Walters  
> *Silent Storm-Carl Espen  
> *Look After You- The Fray  
> *Brave-Riley Pearce  
> *Big Jet Plane-Angus & Julia Stone  
> *Nights In White Satin-The Moody Blues  
> *Bird Set Free-Sia  
> *Impossible-James Arthur  
> *Chasing Cars-Snow Patrol  
> *You're Somebody Else-flora cash  
> *I'll Be Good-Jaymes Young  
> *O Children-Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds  
> *Let it go-James Bay  
> *One Headlight-The Wallflowers  
> *The Chain-Fleetwood Mac  
> *As The World Caves In-Matt Maltese  
> *Sex & Candy-Marcy Playground  
> *Seasons of Change-Half Moon Run  
> *Anti-Lullaby-Karen O  
> *Cat's In The Cradle-Harry Chapin  
> *Mr Loverman-Ricky Montgomery   
> *Mama, I'm Coming Home-Ozzy Osbourne   
> *Sadderdaze-The Neighbourhood  
> *Dreams (piano version)-Lissie

It’s been a little less than an hour since Tony, Peter, and Happy arrived back at the tower. Surprisingly enough, the ride back was silent. Happy and Tony were busy thinking, processing, questioning.

And Peter?

Peter just sat there in the back, quiet like everyone else. At least that’s what it looked like from the outside but on the inside it was anything  _ but _ quiet. A million thoughts bounced back and forth in his head. Some that haven’t been brought up in a  _ long _ time.

_ “Forgetting is difficult, Peter. Remembering is worse.” _

Peter will never forget how hard it hit him, how those words made him feel like he would forever be living on in a nightmare. What if I  _ do  _ remember, Peter would think to himself. He was so worried of the answer May might have given him so he never bothered asking. But in that moment more than ever, looking out at the dark blue sky while he slowly broke into pieces, he wished he had the courage to ask on that terrible night.

Tony put Peter in his and Pepper’s bed, hoping to coax him into getting some sleep so that he would feel better, even if it’s just a little shut eye. “Here Pete,” Tony unfolded a large blanket, “At least lay down.” He draped the blanket over Peter’s small adolescent body. The blanket hardly hung off the bottom edge of the bed, leaving plenty of trapped warmth for Peter to engulf himself in.

“Thanks Mr.Stark,” his voice continued hoarse as he pulled the blanket up to his chin, “For everything.”

Tony smiled down at Peter who’s bundled up in his bed like a toddler. He brushed the hair away from Peter’s forehead and planted a gentle kiss. If Tony didn’t pull away as soon as he did Peter probably would’ve been able to feel the pity behind it.

“You know, Peter, you can tell me what happened.” The boy flinched. Tony took a few steps to the side, “Please?”

Peter shook his head before breaking eye contact. Tony sighed, not masking his disappointment, “Peter, you’re going to have to tell me so that I can help you.”

“I’m fine, I swear. I just need to sleep it off.” Peter glanced at Tony’s face to see if he could read his expression but he came up with nothing. He was hoping his reply was acceptable.

Tony stood broadly in front of the pressured kid, “I’m not going to let this get brushed aside, Peter. It’s not gonna happen.” His tone sharpened. He could tell Peter was getting upset so he was going to lay off. That was until Peter snapped back with, “It will if I let it.”

_ Don’t kid yourself. _

Tony didn’t know why it was so hard for Peter to realize he was there to help, not judge. It’s not like Peter will forget it all come morning so why is he dismissing Tony’s obvious reach? Tony raises his voice, “Well  _ I’m sure as hell _ not going to let it, Peter!” 

The boy in front of him _ shudders.  _ The vibrations of Tony’s voice sent a split chill to Peter’s ears. It was like Tony was blaming him for letting this happen to himself. Like he was going to force Peter to confront it.

Peter could notice the tears pricking at his eyes. Why was Tony being so harsh after how nice he’s been the past hour, why now? Maybe this all  _ is  _ Peter’s fault, maybe if it wasn’t for Peter messing up so badly, Tony wouldn’t be so mad right now.

Peter didn’t think Tony was capable of hating him, but tonight, maybe just a little, Peter could believe he was. Who could blame him? Peter definitely couldn’t. The only person Peter could blame was himself.

Or so he keeps thinking.

Tony takes a deep breath, “I didn’t mean to shout. I just need you to know that I’m serious and that I’m here for you, kid.”

Peter didn’t respond.

_ Kid.  _ Of course that’s what he takes away from this. He was too embarrassed to say anything back. 

Without any progress, Tony takes a break for the time being. He walked out but not before one last thing, “I'll be down in the lab if you need me.” He said kindly, trying not to let his frustration show. It kills Tony knowing that he can’t comfort the kid like he wants to, and it hurts him even more that Peter’s trying to convince himself that it’s all going to go away. The repercussions of that will be truly painful for the both of them.

On Tony’s way down, he finds Happy sitting at the kitchen island. He wasn’t going to say anything and go about his way but apparently Happy had wanted to talk sooner rather than later.

“Tony.” 

He winced at his name being called in such vex. Tony turned to face Happy while standing in the dark overcast of the bright lights that hang above the granite island. Happy sitting in the bloom of it all.

“You’ve gotta tell me what the hell’s going on.”

How could Tony explain it when he himself still doesn’t understand? It’s all a put together blurr of what he saw. He might not have even seen anything he thought he did, his eyes could’ve been deceiving him, but that was very unlikely for the genius inventor and the mannerisms Peter was presenting.

“Listen Hap,” Tony began, “I don’t think I can even explain it. Whether it be because I don’t know enough or because everytime I try to recollect, Peter’s face just pops into my _goddamn_ _head_.” He pinched the bridge of his nose trying to fabricate his next tell so that Happy would get the gist and leave it be. So that the tears that threatened him wouldn’t fall.

“All I know is that he’s not in a good spot right now.” He gestures his hand around trying to express the conjumbled feelings he’s having. Tony decided it was best he continued on his way before Happy could get another round out.

_ Shit. _

Tony tried putting himself in Peter’s and Happy’s shoes but piecing it all together is a sensory overload. He couldn’t possibly understand how Peter feels, no matter how hard he tries he’s just unable to empathize. He’s never been in this situation before, with  _ anyone. _

Let alone  _ Peter. _

One of his own.

-

Tony’s been working in the lab for 20 minutes at most when he gets an alert from FRIDAY. The time he’s spent has been mostly thinking instead of tinkering. Tony couldn’t get over the guilt he was feeling from shouting at Peter earlier. It was really starting to chew at him.

Her voice almost shook him out of his skin with how loud and unexpected it traveled throughout the quiet room.

“ _ Boss.”  _

“Huh...?” Tony shifted the tooth dented pen to the corner of his mouth. He didn’t wait long for an answer, _ “Peter is currently showing numerous signs of distress.” _

Before he even knew it he was stumbling over his own two feet trying to get to the elevator. Once Tony actually got into the elevator he stood there tapping his feet, waiting for it to start moving.

“What the hell _. _ ” His adrenaline was eating him up. Tony was about to run out and up the stairs until he realized he never pressed the floor number.

“ Oh for  _ fucks _ sake!”

Tony stood impatiently while watching the numbers at the top change for what felt like ages. He was so fixated on the beaming red numbers he almost missed the elevator doors opening. He sprinted out of the elevator, through the living area and into the dark hallway. He saved himself from knocking over a few lamps and tripping onto his face with the soft glow of his arc reactor.

_ “Peter’s heart rate is rapidly increasing.”  _ FRIDAY calmly remarks moments before Tony bursted into his bedroom. He looked on in uncertainty at the scene in front of him with Peter thrashing under the blanket.

Peter repeats the same plea, “Get off me!” A “please” with every other. Tony, without a second thought, yanks the blanket off Peter. He thought that it would help but Peter was still wailing his arms in the air and kicking his feet.

“ _ Peter _ , open your eyes kid! You’re at the tower, look!” Tony held up the blanket in his hand even though Peter’s eyes were clamped shut. He bent over to tap Peter’s cheek with the back of his hand hoping the cool and gentle touch would bring him back to his senses.

Peter’s thrashing calmed as his big brown eyes popped open and looked into Tony’s eyes then around the room and then back at Tony. He recognized this place.

“That’s it, there you go,  _ breathe _ .” Tony took a deep breath and stepped back from the bed.

“M’ S’ark?” something between a whisper and a croak. Peter gave Tony a tremored stare, “Please don’t make me go back to sleep.” He quivered.

“Sir, I-” 

_ I don’t want to remember. _

Tony felt like he’d been punched square in the face, and  _ hard _ . “Don’t worry kid, I wouldn’t dream of it.” Not after what  _ he _ walked in on. Well, _ ran into at the speed of light _ to be more specific.

Tony’s throat clenched when he thought about how Peter might have thought he was trying to make a pun. Something Peter did often but Tony would never even consider trying to be punny. It just wasn’t his  _ thing. _

But Peter didn’t have a dream, it was a _nightmare_ , a flashback of something your brain just couldn’t make up. Not _that_ real, not _that_ terrifying, and never _that_ _cruel_.

Tony’s definitely overthinking because Peter didn’t think anything of it, just that he’s content he won’t have to be going back to sleep anytime soon. “Thanks,” Peter takes a second, “wait, why are you even in here, Mr.Stark?”

“Oh, FRI, she told me you weren’t doing so hot.”

Peter pulled at his shirt collar, “ Speaking of hot, i’m sweating up a storm here…do you think you could turn the fan on, please?” He panted. Peter asked so innocently Tony could just crumble into a bunch of little jubilant hearts.

And since Peter didn’t want to go back to sleep, what’s the point of staying in the bedroom? “Would you be up for some work in the lab with me? It gets pretty cold down there. You’ll feel better if you tinker, at least that's what I do when I get stressed.”

Peter scooted to the edge of the bed, “I’d like that.” A genuine smile was shared between the two.  _ Maybe it would help _ , Peter thought. Maybe it would take his mind off things. Maybe,  _ just maybe _ , the hands and the words would be flooded out with concentration on something he loves. 

_Being with Mr.Stark and working in the lab. Together._ Peter smiled to himself at the pleasant thought. Is it possible to think so many thoughts in one night and have so many twists and turns in one's emotions? It must be, because if not, Peter is cursed with the overwhelming thoughts that no other human could even begin to process.

No one could ever imagine the hurt Peter has to face every day break to every dusk. He can’t confide in his parents, he can’t confide in himself, and he can’t carry on hurting May with his problems. And after tonight he can say farewell to being content with his life.

It was hard for Peter to say he was happy when he could settle the feeling as content.

May tries, she really does. But sometimes she says just the right thing that’s wrong and makes Peter feel so small. What hurts Peter even more is that she doesn’t even know she’s doing it and because of that, Peter wouldn’t dare tell her. It would make her upset with herself and Peter couldn’t live with the fact he hurt May after everything she’s done for him.

But maybe after tonight he could gain the confidence to talk with May. After all, she was there for Peter the whole way with Skip. It’s not like May would be disappointed or disgusted, she wasn’t like that. May was the most understanding person Peter has ever met. May never thought twice when Peter looked down, she would always be there with open arms and a gentle smile.

_ May’s hugs are the best. _

Peter wouldn’t change it for the world. The only thing Peter would contemplate changing is how much he overthinks situations, because whenever he overthinks, he misses the most important surface details.

But that’s  _ Peter _ .

_ Peter Parker. _

_ Spider-Man _ however, knows what he’s doing and how to do it.

_ Spider-Man _ doesn’t waste any time to diffuse a situation or protect someone.

_ Spider-Man  _ is  _ everything _ Peter wants to be.

If only Peter could see that he  _ can _ be like Spider-Man because he  _ is  _ Spider-Man, even if in another skin, he has the ability to be everything he wants to be. Peter just can’t understand that. And perhaps that’s his underlying issue.

“ -which is why I had to install  _ this _ bad boy. Pretty smart if I do say so myself. I was actually going to take up the idea with you first, but I…”

He stops his ramble when he glances over his left shoulder and sees the stare Peter’s giving him. The empty look planted on Peter’s face remains untouched by the difference.

“Kid? You’re spacing out on me.” Tony worries about  _ what _ Peter’s so lost on.

“Just try not to think about it Underoos, focus on this, on me.”

_ What would Spider-Man have done? _

“Uh, yeah, um…sorry.” Peter responds, totally oblivious. His face scrunched because he knew he did it again, he spaced out, he worried Mr.Stark, he’s causing Mr.Stark pain.

“For all of this.” Peter said with a shaky breath trying to sound sincere. He’s gotta stop saying things like that because Tony is  _ not  _ good at reassuring emotionally disrupted people. Especially himself if you couldn’t already tell.

“Hey bud?” When Peter looked at Tony with a more relaxed face he continued, “You haven't eaten yet, right? I know  _ I _ haven't and I’m usually good for a while but i’m thinkin’ Thai.”

“How does that sound, hm?” Tony kicks off his desk and rolls his chair towards Peter. Tony never really ate Thai until he met May. He would always catch her and Peter eating takeout when he checked in on them at their apartment. After multiple attempts May made for Tony to have a bite, he caved pretty willingly, actually.

But  _ just _ so that she would stop pestering him and definitely not because of the mouth watering scent that drifted upward from the foam containers. And it tasted even better, better than it smelled but Tony wouldn’t show it, he presented a poker-face. A straight up  _ poker-face _ while his taste buds flourished from the long awaited flavor.

How does he do it?

Well it’s not that hard to figure out but if you haven’t noticed, he’s Tony Stark. I’m pretty sure that’s self-explanatory.

“Honestly…” Peter takes a quick glance at Tony to make sure he’s listening. But when is Tony Stark  _ not _ listening, always keen on making sure he’s aware of every detail. He looks back down at his pale hands when Tony’s attention is directed, “I don’t think i’d be able to stomach anything right now, I’d probably just throw it right up.”

Tony holds his face up on his palm giving Peter a wrenched lip. “Gross, I definitely don’t need that shit splattered across my nice clean floors. "Peter smiles at that. “I mean it would go  _ everywhere.  _ I’m pretty sure you’d have a nice new green-ish, yellow-ish varnish!” The teen exclaimed. Peter laughed seeing Tony so disturbed by the gross mention.

“ I swear you’ll be seeing stars, Pete. And I mean up close and personal. Maybe even have a little chat before you burn to empty space within seconds.”

_ Okay, that might have been a little too much. _

Peter smirked, “Sorry.” uninfluenced by the remark.

“Kid, if you keep apologizing i’ll be annoyed. That’s like the fifth time you apologized for something tonight. Not that I've been counting because that’s ridiculous.”

Oh but he definitely was. He was likely tallying them in his head.

Suddenly a sharp pain daggers Peter's chest.  _ I’m probably getting on his nerves. _

“I’m so-” Peter catches himself before Tony can. Tony pokes Peter in the side which causes Peter to flinch away with a pale face. Tony mentally slaps himself.

“Hey-” Peter brushes Tony’s hand away, “that really hurt.” The boy was caught off guard. Not because of the sudden touch but because of the unexpected pain that followed. He wasn’t being dramatic, it actually did hurt and not because Tony used too much force but because of the bruises that painted his waist.

“I- I’m sorry bud, I didn’t think I poked you that hard.” Tony deflated, retracting his hand, placing it back in his lap. He looked at Peter who’s fidgeting with a loose wire, probably trying to look busy so that he doesn’t have to say anymore.

But Tony wasn’t born yesterday, he knew poking and bending a dead wire wasn’t anything productive.

_ It’s not your fault. It’s just that- _

_ What, that you’re too afraid to say anything? That you don't want him to know? _

_ What, that you have bruises splattered across your body, because you're too weak to defend yourself?  _

_ Is it because he’ll realize how pathetic you are? _

_ I bet it’s that one. _

“Can I change into something more comfortable, Mr.Stark? These pants are pretty tight and I don’t want to ruin this shirt. It’s like really expensive right? And it’s white so it’s definitely going to get dirty and I don’t want to ruin the shirt because you gave it to me so if I could just-”

“Hey-” Once Peter stopped Tony began, “Take a second, you don’t need to rush. I’ll get you some sweats from your room, I'll change too while I'm up there so just…take it slow.”

Peter copies Tony’s exaggerated breaths. After looking into Tony’s eyes the short while, his heart rate becomes regulated. It’s not the first time Tony’s had to remind the kid that slow and steady wins the race, breathing that is, not the other crappy one.

Peter has the tendency to lose himself when he’s on patrol or catching the bad guys. Surprisingly enough, as the little genius he is, breathing correctly and consciously just flies over his head sometimes.

-

Peter stayed seated on the bed while Tony rummaged through his closet, trying to find a suitable pair of sweats, if that was even a thing. 

“I know I put them in here somewhere.” He mumbled underneath his breath. It takes a good few minutes but Tony finally came out from the closet with clothes in hand and a grin on his face.

“Bingo.”

Peter gave him a little smile, “ Thank you, Mr.Stark. Really, thank you.” Peter reached out and took the clothes out of Tony’s open hand. Tony had already gotten changed, he felt pretty bad for not noticing they were still in their formal attire for such a long time.

It kind of just sat subconsciously as a normal sight because of how Tony was usually dressed in a suit unless he was in the lab or trying to blend in, not that that was really possible. It was the usual for him so it didn’t stand out like it did to Peter.

“Well, i’ll let you get to it.” He said, scratching his chin. He began towards the door but something small and warm wrapped itself around his arm causing him to stop. To his surprise when he turned around he saw a pale-faced Peter gripping onto his forearm with a worried look across his face.

Tony didn’t say anything, he just quietly peered down at the boy. Nothing coming to mind when the hand around him pulsed.

Peter retracted his hand, instantly regretting such a childish action. It was almost a reflex, his brain moving his arm without permission.

“Wait. I- uh, if you, if you could, s-st-stay...here?”

Tony was a little stunned, “While you change? Are you sure about that, buddy?” He asked in a soft voice. Tony was struck with confusion, why would Peter want to be changing in front of a man after the…incident.

Tony could tell Peter’s processing what he just asked because he’s quiet and his breath has nearly stopped. “I- yes, I’m sure, really…sure.” Peter nodded to himself, giving a pinch of reassurance to his thoughts.

Tony was a bit thrown off but at the same time he understood, Peter likely just wanted to feel protected while in a vulnerable state. “Sure, kid. I’m gonna take a wild guess that you want me to turn around, right?” 

“Yes, please.” Peter responded in a whisper. Tony does as asked and turns around to where he faces the door. Curiosity swells in the pit of his stomach when he hears the rustling of clothes. He wondered if Peter had been eating properly, he hadn’t been eating as much this month after he became more involved in his late night patrols.

He was picking up some of Tony’s habits, like forgetting to take care of himself, including eating. Tony hoped Peter wasn’t getting too skinny because with his fast metabolism, he needs to eat a lot. And since he’s so light weight because of the spider bite, gaining some weight will keep him grounded better.

Tony often worried about Peter’s lightness and how easily people can toss him around. He thought about the tricky buttons from before on Peter’s shirt that he had trouble with and wondered if he should offer help. He decided against it when thinking about how it might make Peter feel less capable, and after tonight that definitely was not something Tony wanted Peter to feel.

When Tony pulled himself out of his thoughts he noticed the rustling had stopped. He figured Peter was finished so he turned around with the intent to bring Peter back down to the lab. “All done? Wanna head back down to the lab for a few, maybe make some adjustments on your suit this time around?” Tony would have continued on if it wasn’t for the way Peter was looking at himself.

He looked fearful…distraught even. He hadn’t gotten his shirt on yet, he was just standing there looking down at himself. 

“Pete...you good? Get your shirt on bud.” Tony took a step towards him and surprisingly Peter didn’t move away so he continued closer. When Tony’s standing right next to Peter he can finally see it, the thing that Peter’s staring so intently at. Dark splotches, a mixture of deep purples and faint reds covered his right side.

Almost all of them are finger shaped.

Tony’s heart broke more with every bruise he laid his eyes on. He didn’t even want to imagine what happened after seeing where some of the bruises were placed. A few bruises could be seen on his shoulder and neck too. The next thing Tony knows is that he’s turning Peter around and looking at his back and turning him again to see his left side,  _ equally bruised _ , he notes.

Peter’s faint protests go unheard as Tony scanned Peter’s upper half for any other visible bruises and the thought of what Peter’s lower half looked like scared Tony deeply.

_ I’m gonna kill him. I’m going to rip his- _

Tony could feel the bile rise in his throat, burning the back of it like acid. He needed to know what happened to Peter but with all of this unfolding in front of him he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Tony clearly remembers Peter denying he was actually raped but he could have been overwhelmed and confused so Tony can’t really rely on Peter’s head shake to know the truth.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter cried his loudest when Tony yanked the waistband of his sweatpants. Peter’s fists banged and jabbed at Tony’s hand and when Tony didn’t let go, Peter cried for him to stop, again and again.

It was enough to snap Tony out of his enraged trance.

He could feel the bunched fabric in his grip and the tension from the way he was pulling the waistband away from Peter's hip. Tony released the waistband and it made a loud  _ thwip  _ against Peter’s defined hip bone. Tony took a step back and realized what he had done and what he was  _ about _ to do.

Peter’s sobs became heartbreakingly loud in Tony’s ears. Before they were inaudible, muffled by rage.

_ What the hell just happened? _

“Peter, I’m  _ so sorry.  _ I had no idea, I didn’t mean to.” Tony’s steadiness, influenced by his heavy breaths. He was at a loss for words, he was shocked when he came to, when he saw the fear glowing in Peter’s eyes, true horror as Peter fought to get Tony’s hands off.

No amount of excuses could make up for the fact that he was about to pull Peter’s pants down just to confirm his own worries and with complete disregard for Peter’s feelings. In Peter’s eyes he probably looked just as bad as that sorry excuse of a man.

Tony might have just lost most if not all Peter’s trust.

“W-Why would you do tha-a-at?!” Peter bellowed at Tony with tears pouring down his face like torrents. It hurt more than what happened with Abraham because this was Tony, someone Peter trusted, someone he thought of as a dad.

_ Why does this keep happening? _

Peter had no idea what Tony’s intentions were, only how he felt like he was back with Abraham in the stall, terrified. Peter fell back onto the bed in a sitting position, trying to distance himself from Tony, Peter didn’t know what he would do next.

“Peter, fucking hell, you know i’m not like that! You know it. I would never do something that  _ sick _ .” Tony was pained by the thought that Peter believed he could do something so horrendous.

“But you ju-ust did!” The boy wailed in disbelief. Tony fears that his act was enough to cost Peter and his relationship. Tony could’ve just lost his son, someone he tried to give a father, the father Peter never got to grow up with.

Tony wanted to be a loving father that he himself never had because Tony couldn’t live with himself if he let Peter grow up without the father figure that he deserves, someone to relate to, someone to help him feel loved and empowered. May’s been doing a fantastic job, yah, but someday Peter’s going to realize he can’t go to May when he has a question or worries because she’s a woman and Peter is the textbook definition of awkward.

It didn’t take long to build their connection, but right now Tony could tell that it doesn’t take long to shatter it into a million pieces either.

Once barricaded tears, began to prick at Tony’s eyes. This kid is the sole reason to wake up in the morning, to smile, to be caring and loving like a father and Tony couldn’t bear to lose that. He couldn’t lose Peter.

_ He’ll never work in the lab with me again. He'll tell May what happened and I won’t be able to see him or be there for him when he needs me. I can’t leave him in the dust like my bastard of a father did to me but I won't have a choice.  _

“I was so blinded by  _ rage _ , Peter. Seeing all of those… _ bruises _ you have on your sides and shoulders and  _ neck _ , how could I not be? I- I worried that there were more…on your thighs or…” Tony trailed off. All he could do was repeatedly apologize to Peter. While Peter sat on the edge of the bed crying, Tony felt useless.

_ It was an accident. Mr.Stark didn’t mean to hurt me, he was just worried. I shouldn’t be hurting him even more when all he’s done is try to help. _

As if Peter’s brain flipped a familiar switch, his thoughts soon wreaked of guilt and sympathy. “Stop please, Mr.Stark. I get it…it wasn’t really your fault, you’re just worried about me. Thank you, for…for being c-con-concerned.” Peter nods as if he was actually reassuring himself that his body agrees. Peter knows he can trust Tony, he  _ knows that.  _ But in that moment there were so many fears and thoughts that accumulated inside his head that he didn’t know what was what or who was who.

All Peter knew is that he was scared.

He thought it was happening all over again, he was reliving it, he felt like he was never going to be able to escape it. Like his body’s a broken record, playing every hand and breath in sequence, over and over again. The only way to stop the music is to remove the record, but what would removing the record mean for Peter?

Would it cost Peter his youthful life?

How long till someone could fix the record to where it plays like all the others?

Could Peter even afford to wait that long?

Even so, it’s not Tony’s fault that Peter can’t get his shit together, it’s no ones, not even Peter’s. It just so happens to be that the human mind doesn’t process emotions or thoughts correctly 24/7.

Tony’s right and Peter realizes it. If Peter wants to get better he needs Tony’s help, he needs to tell Tony  _ and May _ . But right now, in the moment, it’s just him and Tony alone with no prying ears. And he’ll need to tell Tony not just about what happened tonight, but what happened years ago, he’ll have to dig up his past and tell it to the man he thinks of as a father.

No parent would want to hear that from their kid. But it doesn’t matter because this is Tony and Tony’s offering everything to Peter, love, help, acceptance. Tony won’t turn his back on him, not now, not ever.

“Peter,” Tony begins.

_ Wait, me first. _

“Just- just hold on, I have more to say. And I want you to, uh, for you to listen...to me, to what I have to say.”

_ Okay, that wasn’t so hard. You’re gonna wanna sit down for this. _

“ Oh god where do I even begin, Mr.Stark? I have to start somewhere, but I... don’t know what to say first.” Peter wipes the wet spots under his eyes. Tony looks like he’s seen an angry Pepper charging towards him.

Tony was beyond lost because just a few seconds ago he thought he lost Peter and that Peter hated him and now here he stands while Peter calmly gestures for him to sit next to him on the bed.

_ I don’t know what’s happening but I think it’s progress. _

Tony’s a little close and Peter has to dismiss the urge to scurry away from him. “Just take it easy, kiddo. Start from the beginning. How bout’ that, sound good?” Tony fights his own urge to pull Peter close and hold him until he falls peacefully asleep in his arms. It’s something he’ll never admit he has on his wishlist, Tony’s turning soft because of Peter and it’s not hard for others around him to tell, especially Happy.

Peter lets out a shaky breath, “Well, um, this isn’t really my, uh no,  _ the  _ first time,” 

“-with this.” He blurts out, his sentence didn't paint the picture he was trying to construct. Tony must be holding himself back because Peter can hear his heart practically beating out of his chest. Peter could invision his hand on Tony’s chest as it bounced back and forth from the pitter patters.

Peter was about to continue when he saw how Tony looked at him, it was making Peter really uncomfortable and not because it was creepy but because he knew he would be able to see how Tony’s face would look when he finally got the words out and Peter wasn’t ready for that because it would just make him want to cry even more while explaining it all. Peter didn’t want Tony to be able to look at him while he was explaining, Peter would have an easier time speaking if he wasn’t being so closely watched.

Peter stood up quickly, “ Can you please sit on the  _ other _ side of the bed?” Peter gestured over Tony’s shoulder, “ There, please. If you really want to know the whole story, like… _ everything _ , I can’t have you s-st-staring at me like you just w-were. Just sit really quietly so that I can pretend you’re not here. N-No offense Mr.Stark,  _ really _ , I just want to be able to give you…what you want.” Peter definitely could’ve worded that last part better as to not make it sound like Tony was forcing Peter to do something he didn’t want to do.

Well, if Peter’s being honest, he isn’t ready, he’s still scared but that’s to be expected when confronting someone about something so personal, something the average person would be too scared to come forward about, sexual assault. It’s a serious thing, there’s been countless times Peter has steered women clear of a susceptible man.

There was another time when Peter really realized why he made an effort to patrol. One night he was stationed on the roof of a small store when he saw a mother and her young daughter, maybe around five or six at night, right when the sun started to melt into the horizon. The two were walking past a vacant alley way when all the sudden a man lunged out and grabbed the little girl which led Peter springing into action and saving the child.

The large man ended up in federal prison because one of the officers recognized him and later found his rap sheet being consistent of pedophilia and sexual assualt, all open cases that the police were unable to confirm with their little to no evidence.

Spider-Man took care of that though, like he always did, he can save others but not himself. Sadly enough, Peter knew that far too well. But in the midst of things he was overwhelmingly proud of himself that night, it’s not rocket science to get an idea of what would’ve happened to that little girl and mom if not for him.

It still gives him goosebumps just thinking about it.

“Uh, sure, whatever you say, kid. I’ll try my best to understand it all, just try  _ your _ best to keep calm, okay? Can you do that for me?”

_ Still treating me like a child, why do I bother… _

Peter gave a pained smile, “Thanks.” He sat on the other side of the bed, leaving Tony’s back facing his and their faces glued to opposite sides of the room. The end of the bed where they once sat was left wrinkled and untouched as Peter brewed his explanation.

Peter was unsure if he could really go through with it and he began to bring his focus to the silver decals on the cover of a notebook that sat on the accent table in front of him. His eyes diligently traced the glossy edges of the tool brand stickers, oranges and deep blues become the only thing Peter’s aware of.

_ Why haven’t I heard of these before? The notebook too, I don’t re- _

An ushed jab to Peters back is quick to bring him back into the conscious reality he’s wanting so badly to escape from. “Kid? You with me bud? Are...are you, do you-” Tony’s voice betrayed him.

Peter jabbed him back. “I'm, I’m doing fine. Sorry about that…got sidetracked, surprise, surprise, I know…” Peter joked because he knew Tony was gonna say the same sarcastic thing. “Mr.Stark,” Peter whispers, “ Didn’t I say you had to be quiet?” 

Peter could feel the sudden movement of Tony’s body on the bed and he knew he was about to apologize when he turned his head over Peter’s shoulder, “Ah-” Peter raised his eyebrows, bringing a finger up to his lips, shushing the older man.

Tony sighed and turned back around to face the bland wall that mocked his racing thoughts. There was nothing Tony could look at to keep him from thinking too much, nothing to repress his feelings, nothing to lessen the throbbing in his chest, nothing at all.

_ Not one single thing. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	3. Open Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for hurting me enough to open my eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was re-edited on 2/5/2021  
> As always, thank you so much for reading!  
> P.S. I listened to a lot of slowed songs while writing this chapter, I still suggest listening to the previous songs I recommended though ;)

Peter rested himself against Tony’s back and he didn’t think twice to regret it because the warmth Tony was giving him was enough to lull a baby to sleep. Tony leaned ever so slightly back to Peter, he knew the kid was scared and he wanted Peter to know he can take as much time as he needs because Tony’s not going  _ anywhere. _ Tony would’ve  _ said it _ if not Peter’s crave for his silence.

The two sat there while a heavy silence loomed in the air, the silence was unknowingly agreed upon by both males and deep down they knew it would take some dreaded thinking to overcome their shaking souls.

“It was before Uncle Ben died,” Peter began and Tony knew his patience had paid off, “only a couple years though. It was just me, May, and Ben. Everything was good, we all were happy!” Peter smiled at that.

“I didn’t really think about my parents too too much because I knew I had to focus on what I had at the time, which was May, Ben, and school. And I didn’t really have friends and if i'm being…well if i’m being honest, I-I didn’t want any. I had enough to deal with already. An-And-d ya, sometimes I would wish the kids my age would acknowledge me…in a  _ good way.  _ But all of that changed when I met my fir-first friend.” Peter took a deep gulp wishing to swallow away his unsteady speech. He was stalling.

_ Oh god I should stop while I’m ahead. Don’t tell him. Don’t tell him. Do.Not.Tell.Him. _

Tony took a deep breath and held it when Peter stopped, yet again.

_ Come on kid, tell me. You’ve gotta tell me. Please kid, what is it that’s hurting you so badly? What are you trying so hard to shut me out on? _

The thought of getting to the point quickly caught hold of Peter and it felt as if there was a shield wrapped around him, his body cried out to move but his brain wouldn’t let him no matter how hard he tried. The constant pauses were killing Tony, “Kid,” he sighed, “we can just do this another time if you’re not ready yet. I’m sorry for making you think you had to tell me tonight…even after everything that happened.” Tony wanted so badly for Peter to tell him, he was probably making Peter feel forced to tell him, he’d rather not make Peter feel even worse about something that wasn’t his fault.

Tony was rushing Peter for the whole story but he couldn’t help it, he  _ needed  _ to know.

For the  _ hundredth _ time, Tony  _ needed _ to know, he  _ had _ to know.

_ I’ll get it out of him soon enough. But for the time being- _

“He was a few years ahead of me. He actually became my babysitter at some point. Pretty pathetic isn’t it, your own babysitter…I was so stupid to think anything good would come of it.” The tears burned at his already red eyes. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs so that everyone would know the pain he’s been holding captive, and feel the overwhelming sensation of  _ emptiness  _ that followed along with it _. _

“But I…I realized how badly I wanted to have friends after sp-spending time with h-him. Always laughing and exploring with each other, it-it was something I never experienced before. As a kid, I was over the moon to have somebody to hang out with, someone who made me feel like I was more than a stupid kid. And…I would’ve done  _ anything _ to keep it that way. And that's exactly how it happened. I let greed get the best of me, Mr.Stark.” Peter spoke the last bit with so much  _ self-hatred _ that Tony could practically feel Peter’s pain seep into him through his shirt.

“My greed led me to my doom.” Peter mumbled to himself in disbelief of how naïve of a child he was. Even though he didn’t like to admit it, he was still the same naïve child he was when this all went down, it sickened him that he’s barely changed, and after everything that’s happened.

Tony’s been able to follow the story so far and he’s beginning to piece together what Peter’s getting at and the pieces he’s gathered are quite unsettling. Tony kept bouncing in between wanting to know and not wanting to know how the story plays out. His aching chest doesn’t help either and the throbbing in his fingertips is a feeling that Peter knows all too well.

_ Throbbing. _

Peter’s body used to be the textbook definition of throbbing, back when he would play  _ games  _ with Skip and the endless nights he lied in bed questioning if things would ever go back to normal, if  _ Skip  _ would ever go back to normal. Peter wished for time to stop so that he could catch up with his thoughts. He had too many of them for a kid his age. Too many worries, too many hurtful memories, too much pain inflicted upon him by his one and only  _ friend. _

And no matter how many times Skip reassured him that  _ “This is what the bestest of friends do. Common Einstein, I know you’d hate to disappoint.”  _ He would feel the dizziness and nausea set in, overriding all consciousness, replacing it with petrified confusion.

Skip would use their relationship and Peter’s insecurities to guilt trip him into playing  _ games.  _ And it worked and Skip began to use it every time Peter begged to go home, to get away, to  _ save himself _ .

At first it was just the touching of his light brown curls and then it turned to his shoulders, then his waist, then the hands he once trusted everything with would be lifting up his shirt and pulling his pants off and Peter wanted nothing more than to run into Aunt May and Uncle Bens arms because that’s where he felt the safest, that’s were sleep could find him, were his fears subsided.

But when Skip pinned Peter down onto his bed and shoved Peter’s face into the pillow while Peter screamed at the top of his lungs from the pain that erupted in his backside, and when Peter banged on the cold hands that gripped his waist tightly, he knew nothing would ever make him feel okay again, nothing could make the tremors or the constant looking over the shoulder, go away.

_ In that moment, Peter Parker was the smallest he’s ever been. _

Maybe in another life Peter Parker was a brave genius who spent his elementary years amazing his teachers and fellow classmates with his jaw-dropping science projects, and maybe he still had his parents around to praise him for it. Sadly, that was just a fairytale, a figment of one's imagination. _Nothing more, nothing less._

Peter thought he was safe with Skip in jail, he thought nothing could get to him anymore, but he was sorely mistaken. Abraham made it so that Peter was never safe, every corner he turned, there could be someone waiting to to hurt him, just like He and Skip did.

The fear will forever follow him, even when he’ll be laid six feet into the ground with the living mourning his lifeless body. Thanks to the men that hurt him, Peter will never know the feeling of having a choice, of having his first kiss or his first time. It was all ripped away from him at such a young age.

Everyone around him will be moving on with their lives while Peter sits in his thoughts wishing he had a choice, to move on, to know his body, a choice to be a kid again and not have to know what being broken felt like.

Looking back on it, Peter doesn’t blame himself like he did when he was a child for what happened with Skip because it was out of his control, he was a child and Skip was a senior in high school.

_ He knows that now. _

But Peter also knows he could’ve stopped Abraham, If only he had tried harder, scream louder,  _ fought braver.  _ Peter could’ve done a dozen things from keeping Abraham from getting as far as he did, or hell, he could’ve just stayed at the damn bar. He's a genius for god’s sake,  _ Tony Stark’s intern _ , and he couldn’t even make the right decision about following a sketchy guy into the bathroom,  _ alone. _

“He would make me play games with him.” Peter whispered in hopes that it would go unheard. Even though he said it right by Tony’s ear, he still wished it possible.

“He would make me touch him…he-he told me he wanted me to make him feel g-good and that if I didn’t give him what he wanted, he…he said he'd hurt me like a friend never should. I-I believed him. After everything he made me do,  _ I believed him _ , he wouldn’t hesitate to go all the way.” Peter tilted his head back, resting on Tony’s shoulder and when the tears finally started to fall, Tony could feel them, dripping onto his jaw and down off his chin.

Peter’s cheek soaked Tony’s faint sideburn with tears. They were burning tears, silent ones that only Peter could understand. Only Peter knew the emotion behind them, the heavy hurt that they carried.

Tony felt something in him turn to dust.

_ Games?  _

Tony was definitely going to be visiting this so-called ‘Skip’ and he’ll be giving him hell, he’ll be sure to terrify him like he terrified and haunted Peter for years to come.

“I did everything he told me to… _ everything. _ ” Peter’s voice cracked and it broke Tony’s heart. Tony wanted to turn around and pull Peter into a sound hug and make all of the bad things go away but  _ he couldn’t  _ and it  _ hurt so bad. _

“But even so,” Peter said without effort, “ it must not have been enough because on the seventh of April, he held me down on his bed and he raped me. He told me how good I made him feel and how nice it was to finally  _ do me.  _ I begged for him to stop…I  _ just  _ wanted to go  _ home _ !” Peter cried out, unsuccessful in holding back his tears. Peter was full on sobbing and the angle his neck was on Tony’s shoulder really hurt so he lifted it up and slouched over, head in hands.

His body shook against Tony’s back with every sob, leaving Tony heartbroken. Tony knew the wet spots on his face weren’t all Peter’s, he rubbed underneath his eyes before twisting himself to face Peter’s small frame, “Pete…” Tony didn’t have the faintest clue what to say and if he did he would keep quiet because the floodgates would burst open and his heart would completely fall apart all over again.

Tony gently took Peter’s arm and cautiously guided him towards his chest, “Buddy, let me see your face…please, Peter.” Tony’s voice was soft. Peter shook his head against his palms, “No.” Peter’s voice was hoarse from so much crying in one night. Tony took a deep breath and sat down in the middle of the bed so that he was diagonal to Peter.

“I was just a kid.” his lower lip quivered. There they came, one then came another, tears began to freely fall down Tony’s paled face.

“Just a  _ kid.”  _ Peter whimpered. 

_ You’re still just a kid. My kid. _

“I know bud, I know. I'm…I’m  _ so sorry,  _ Peter. I wish I could’ve stopped it, I wish I could’ve been there for you. But i’m here now. I'm here and i’m not going anywhere. I’ll make sure that bastard doesn’t see the light of day,  _ ever. _ ” Tony wrapped his arms around Peter and pulled him close to his chest, he placed a kiss on Peter's head and squeezed him tightly.

_ Please, don’t leave me all alone, please, don’t let go… _

_ “I love you.”  _ The boy whispered, unable to hold it back anymore because if there was ever a time when he needed a dad, it’s now. Tony lifts his head up mainly in shock at what he thought he just heard and if his ears weren’t messing with him, he’s damn glad to have heard it.

“I…I love you too, kiddo. So,  _ so much. _ ” Peter cried out in relief.

Who knew three simple words could do so much?

Who knew one person could make all of Peter’s hurt go away?

All the pain he thought would haunt him to his grave, it seemed to have diluted itself.

Was it possible that Tony was the glue to put back together Peter’s broken pieces and that Tony would be there to hold the pieces while they dry, even when his arms get tired, would he continue to hold them?

It was only a matter of time before Peter would have to tell May about what happened at the gala and Peter wasn’t ready to drop that bomb on May, not after what happened with Skip, it’s too much for her.

Tony would probably end up giving her a call, telling her that Peter’s gonna stay another night or that he doesn’t feel good, but telling May that Peter wasn’t feeling good definitely wouldn’t keep her away, it’d do the exact opposite and attract her like a power magnet. 

Tony assumed that Peter wouldn’t want her to be all over him asking so many questions and touching him with all her nosy intentions. Tony  _ assumed  _ that all was forgiven and that Peter would be more open with him about something as heavy as this, or anything,  _ anything at all _ .

What does this mean for the two?

Is Tony going to step up to the plate like he’s always wanted to and be there for Peter like he never got the chance to?

Will Peter finally have what he’s craved since childhood, someone to tell him how strong of a man he is, someone to work alongside with, someone he can trust with his life, the dad that he never got to grow up with? The ‘Tony’ that he wished he had all those years ago.

“Don’t let me go sir, please…don’t go,” Peter gripped Tony’s arm tightly while his face smudged up against his chest.

“I don’t know what I'm going to do-” Peter inhaled sharply when he thought of how he was going to confront May and when, because right now he doesn’t even want to see her with how much has already happened, he doesn’t need her breaking down in front of him. Peter didn’t need to be thinking about that right now though, he just needed to focus on Tony’s arms wrapped around him and the safe feeling that eased it’s way into his heart.

Peter tried to match his breathing with Tony’s so that he could make it more comfortable, being pressed up against each other and all. When Peter clenched his eyes shut he could feel what he once felt with uncle Ben, it was the same feeling of protection and love that he felt when he was in Ben’s arms and it made Peter wonder what other things would feel familiar and if Tony could fill the the empty hole that uncle Ben left behind when he died.

_ This isn’t so bad. _

Peter decided to let himself feel everything again, everything he kept out in order to keep himself from remembering how hard it was to live without uncle Ben, he opened his arms to the familiar feeling.

_ This is a new beginning. _

Tony’s surprised when Peter shimmies himself out from his grip and stares right up at him with his big doe eyes.

“I’ll become something better with you, Mr.Stark. I’ll become someone who’s not afraid, I'll take chances, I’ll reach out when I need to, I’ll make you proud, I promise.” Peter looks determined when he grabs Tony’s hand, “You just have to be there with me and i’ll be able to do it! I really will! ” It was like Peter was trying to convince Tony not to leave him. Tony smiled down at the blabbering teen before running his fingers through his curly locks, “ I’ll be with you the whole way, kid.”

Peter’s heart warmed at that. Maybe there really was a happy ending for Peter Parker. Maybe that happy ending was soon to come. Peter didn’t like the idea but what if this was all possible because of Abraham, what if that was just the right enough push to make Peter do something about his miserable life?

_ I guess I could say thank you. You helped me out a bit. I don’t forgive you and I never will but I’ll remember how much stronger I'll become because of you. Thank you for hurting me enough to open my eyes. _

And with that, Peter and Tony fell asleep in each others arms and were awaiting their awakening from a home-sick Pepper.

After that night, Peter would become something more than himself, something he could only dream as of hours ago.

_ Peter Parker would become Spider-Man. _


	4. I Wish I Didn't Have To Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony wishes he didn't have to wish so much, he can't help but want everything he can't have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was re-edited on 2/5/2021.  
> As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Tony’s last thought before succumbing to the drowsy weight of the world was that the worst part was over.

If Peter knew that Tony thought so oblivious to the aftermath, he would’ve crack under the pressure because the reality of that thought would slowly unravel itself into a vicious cycle of nightmares right in front of Tony’s very eyes, but Peter would still hesitate to break the unfortunate news that it was anything  _ but _ over.

An endless and torturous loop Tony, in all his glory, never thought he would live to see. Maybe then, Peter would be able to give in to the darkness that tried so long and so hard to lure him into the unforgiving afterlife. The same darkness that welled in Ben’s chest as the bullet that slowly drained the life out of him, the same bullet that takes a different form in Peter.

The boy often becomes tempted to experience the same deed, maybe having his life flash before his eyes would dig up the happy memories that Peter’s been unable to remember. The memories that were forcibly and ignorantly shoved to the back of his brain, where they weren’t supposed to be, where they weren’t able to flourish, where they couldn’t be used to cheer up a sad and lonely child.

After all, what’s the point of having memories if you can’t look back on them, at the life you used to have, the way things once where and how much you loved them? For Peter, it helped him realize just how alone he was, that no matter how good he did in the world, it just wasn’t enough to be requited.

Was it possible that karma only looked at the bad things he’s done?

The unbelievably and inhumanly small amount of bad things that he’s done?

Because if karma did exist and if that was the case, how is it even karma?

How can turning down a greedy classmate to help Tony in the lab on a Friday night or telling a stubborn bully to shut up be even  _ remotely  _ justified or compromised with being assaulted?

It wasn’t even a bad thing on Peter’s end, it was more like a polite decline,  _ i'll have to stand up for myself  _ kinda deal, so how…how could small things like that end up leading to something so unthinkable?

One thing’s for sure, time can make the world beautiful…but more times than not, time can also make it the darkest place known to man. And now it’s Peter’s time to make himself beautiful again...so that he can feel the warmth flutter throughout his veins once more.

As May would say,  _ “Peter, baby, sometimes you’ve gotta grab life right by the balls and make It your bitch!” _

It’s still a little too extreme for Peter to be comfortable with but he smiles every time he invisions May’s wine reddened cheeks smiling at him. 

_ “What would I ever do without you, May?” _

A life without May isn’t a life at all. Peter would do it all over again. _Everything_ , if it meant he could continue being pinched and poked and tickled and loved _._

“A hundred times over.” Peter mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

The sunlight that beamed in through the windows complemented Pepper’s strawberry red strands, each one different from the last as they stayed held together at the top of her head, hanging straight down to the upper of her back.

“Really now? I’d love to see that. If I’m not as tired as I feel, this is the third time this has happened this month. I think you’re making a breakthrough, hon, a real breakthrough.” She smiled softly at Peter’s unruly curls, leaning in to ruffle them.

It’s been two weeks since Peter spilled everything to Tony, 13 days since he told May and 10 days since Tony told Pepper.

Tony would’ve said something sooner if it wasn’t for Pepper Potts and her extremely ruthless work schedule. Pepper has always thought Peter important to her and Tony since day one. She knew this kid would bring new things into their life and that they would for Peter as well and that whether they liked it or not, they would become close.

And that’s just what they are, in another life, in another not so messed up world, they were a perfect family that had good things coming their way. May would have a huge weight lifted off her shoulder and she could take some time off work every now and then and she could  _ really  _ be there for Peter, not just through a cracked cell phone screen.

Hell, she could even not work at all with how much income Tony and Pepper make. But May being May would still work to support Peter, no matter what, she doesn’t leech off of people, May earns things for her and Peter with hard work, that’s how it’s been since day one.

“He s’ill as’eep? I’s like…” Peter looked around for a clock but his eyes were too heavy.

“Eleven thirty-two. And you can’t say much, sweetie. You only woke up minutes ago!” Pepper pulled out her Starkpad and said her goodbyes as she headed back to her office for more work. She didn’t bother to shut the door because she knew Peter wouldn’t be groggy for much longer.

Peter stared down at Tony, studying his peaceful face, he never noticed the small scar that etched itself into his hairline, it’s smooth to Peter’s surprise.

As he skimmed his hand over the small line he could feel the sunshine warming him quickly.

He closed his eyes...it’s so calm, the most peaceful it’s been  _ in a long time. _

“Please don’t tell me i’ve turned into a dog…” Tony jokingly quipped.

Peter flinched his hand away with a flushed face and bugged out eyes.

“Mr.Stark!” he squeaked, now fully awake.

The smiling man sat himself up and pushed out a long awaited yawn and stretch.

Peter watched him intently while he waited for what Tony was gonna say next.

A small yawn transferred itself to Peter while he watched, eyes hopeful.

“We fell asleep in your room again, didn’t we…” Tony asked in the rhetorical variety.

Peter beamed Tony a smile and gave him an enthusiastic nod, “Sure did! And you’re finally up! I was talking with Ms- P-Pepper earlier, she was really busy though.”

Tony let out a sigh at the familiar statement, “Yah, she’s been really tied up, kid. And I don’t think anyone could sleep soundly when someone’s staring a hole into their face.”

Tony nudged Peter and Peter’s face turned hot and he lifted his hand to feel the additional warmth, “Mm...s’rry” 

Tony reassured him with a hair ruffle and stood up to head to the kitchen.

Peter stayed on the bed after Tony walked out, he needed a minute to gather himself.

“Everything’s going so well,  _ too well _ .” he mumbled to himself.

It hurt to think about it but it hurt even more knowing that it was the inevitable truth.

_ The Parker luck. _

Peter didn’t admit it to anyone but he felt like something bad was going to happen, like the carpet would soon be ripped out from under his feet, and he'd be sent plummeting.

_ So much for being positive. _

Peter scoffs before running a hand down his face and preparing himself to have breakfast with the renowned Tony Stark.

“Phew...here we go.” Peter puts on a genuine smile when he makes his way into the kitchen where Tony’s already mixing the pancake batter.

Peter takes a seat at the island, “Again, Mr.Stark? I thought we went over this! Having pancakes every morning isn’t good for your health.” Peter playfully scolds in hopes that Tony will say it's his last hoorah before eating healthier.

Tony sets down the bowl before turning around to mimic Peter.

Peter laughs at that, “I’m serious!”

“Kid, the only damn thing I can cook that doesn’t taste like fried wires is pancakes.  _ I’m  _ serious. And it won’t take a few hundred pancakes to knock me on my ass, that’s for sure. You don’t have anything to worry your pretty little head about.”

That’s the only untrue thing Tony’s said to Peter since that night.

Peter does have things to worry his pretty-little-head about, many, many things.

If only Peter could tell Tony how much worry he has about everything, literally  _ everything _ .

Even though he somewhat promised Tony that he would confide in him more, Peter still can’t bring himself to contribute to Tony’s immense amount of concealed stress.

_ Mr.Stark’s already done so much for me, I owe it to him. _

In truth, Peter’s already helped Tony so much, this is Tony giving back to Peter, also mainly doing what’s right and what’s best for the kid.

Tony loves the kid,  _ his  _ kid, Peter Parker, Tony Stark's pseudo son.

The one no one knows about.

Sometimes deep down, late at night while he lays in bed trying to slip out of consiousness, he wishes he could call Peter his son, he wishes the media would just leave him the fuck alone if he did and let him and his kid live in peace.

Tony wishes he didn’t have to wish so much, he can’t help but want everything he can’t have.

Peace of mind, something he and Peter alike, could never grasp.

Not even for a second.

Because when you’re drowning, and you feel the burning pain swell in your chest and no matter how hard you try and resist, you eventually give into the urge, wanting so badly to feel the air fill your lungs, still trying to rationalize it all.

No matter how hard it got for Peter to breathe, he still believed there was a way out, that if he took a chance, if he took that fatal breath, maybe he could find the feeling he’s been looking for, even if the chances are slim to none.

It’s the chance he regretted taking each time that led him to sitting across from Tony Stark, eating pancakes while trying to -but unsuccessfully- bury the thoughts that waver his mentality.

“What’d those pancakes ever do to you? Damn, Pete, You might as well be on the brink of entering a different dimension with your intense stare-downs.” Tony says as he finishes off his syrup-drenched pancakes, “Maybe I wouldn’t be such a fuck up in another dimension.” Peter manages to spit out like venom at Tony.

“If that’s even possible. "He didn’t mean to cause the man to pale at the face.

Peter mentally took note of Tony’s expression as he made his way around and sat on the stool next to him.

Tony rested his hand on Peter’s shoulder and Peter couldn’t help but immensely regret what he just said.

Like... _ gurganious _ regret. 

Peter can feel the tension grip his heart before hopping off the stool and excusing himself, scurrying away from the soon-to-be confrontation. 

Peter completely ignores Tony’s pleas for him to open up as he slips further down the dark hallway towards his room.

Peter’s initial response once he shuts his bedroom door is to reach for his phone and call May to pick him up and take him home because he’s too embarrassed to face Tony for his immaturity.

His finger hovered over her name, bobbing up and down from his peaked heart beat, the adrenaline from escaping such a situation.

A voice erupts from behind the door, followed by a quiet knock, “Peter? Are you alright, kiddo? I didn’t say anything to- was it what I said about you staring? I’m sorry...”

Peter flicks his eyes towards the door, silently contemplating his next move.

He could just tell Tony all the doubts he’s having and that he really needs more help with coping, or he could tell Tony he was just being a stupid kid or that he was being ignorrant and irrational, but that’s a little too much for Peter to admit.

He’s not good with words, especially not reaching out to someone out of desperation because his problems are too big for him to deal with on his own.

Not that he’s alone in this -Tony never stopped making sure he was doing everything he could for the time being- but the lack of understanding was just too much for Peter to put his full faith in Tony.

He knows it’s not Tony’s fault that he can’t relate, hell, he’s glad -fucking joyous- that Tony can’t relate, because that would be fucking hurrendous to know that the same thing happened to his...well,  _ his dad _ .

“I’m fine.” Peter decides, “It was an-an accident, Mr.Stark, I’m really sorry for saying that, it was really not nice. Like, really stupid of me to say.”

_ So stupid. _

Tony must’ve thought everything was going swell because he was at a loss of words, standing in front of Peter’s bedroom door, wanting nothing more than to know how to help him  _ properly. _

Tony didn’t know what he was doing, it was no secret, not even Peter could deny it.

_ What’s the right thing to say in this situation? _

Nobody knew, not even Peter could pinpoint what he wanted to hear Tony say, he’d rather just be left alone right now until the throbbing sensation in his hands and feet died down.

Peter hears a sigh of defeat, “I’ll be down in the lab if and when you wanna talk. I’ll see you later, bud?” Tony wants to demand Peter to come out right this instant but Peter’s not a toddler and he doesn’t need to be yelled at right now, Tony can rip him a new one later.

“Yeah,” Peter croaks, “cool.”

_ Cool, huh?  _

Even when Peter’s down, his personality never ceased to shine through, Tony smiles at that.

“Cool.” He whispers.

Tony hesitates to walk away just yet, maybe Peter would call out to him and open the door to only then engulf him in a tight hug and completely open up about everything he’s been feeling these past few weeks.

But  _ please,  _ shit like that only happens in movies nowadays.

When the silence holds thick, Tony leaves his pitiful spot and heads down to the lab.

He hopes to have Peter join him sooner rather  than later.

“Welcome back, Boss.” FRIDAY’s voice followed with the lights brightening to reveal the cluster fuck of a lab he had.

He didn’t have the chance to tidy up his workspace while being busy with Peter, let alone to spend any time in it at all.

He missed his babies.

He could deal without FRIDAY though, she usually talks back, Tony still questions to this day why he thought it would be a good idea to make his AI charismatic,  _ too charismatic _ .

Nonetheless, he still depends on FRIDAY, like... _ immensely. _

Granted, Tony programmed her to be able to give him the intel and assistance he needs, so technically, he depends on his intelligence, not his AI system alone.

“Hey FRI,” Tony takes a seat, “can you keep an eye on Peter for me?”

“Sure thing, Boss. Any particular requests?” the AI voices back.

Tony runs a hand down his face, “ Just,” he pauses, “ Just tell me if he does anything out of the ordinary or- you know what,” he cuts him himself off.

Tony stands up out of his chair and peers around his desk to see the clutter pile staring back at him, “Just pull up video feed.” Tony decides and he tries to hype himself up to declutter the lab.

“Would you still like me to report any unusual activity? And if so, Peter Parker is a good person, Boss. My recent data has shown great responsibility and effort in his work tactics. I would recommend you do not think of him any less than studious and well mannered.” FRIDAY gives so much humanization into her speech that it could worry one that robots and technology could take over in near future -which at this rate Tony wouldn’t doubt it-.

“Yes?” Tony tries, seeming that his answer concluded all of what she spewed at him.

“It’s not like I don’t trust him, FRI. You make it sound like I think he’s gonna steal or something of that sort. I just worry--he’s a  _ kid.  _ A kid with a bunch of fucking problems that he has to deal with; none of which he can. And his martyr complex isn’t helping him whatsoever!”

“Boss, it would seem you are agitated, may I suggest breathing exercises that Ms.Potts has used previously? They seem to have worked when you are in distress. However, I am not Pepper Potts so I cannot guarantee the same results.” FRIDAY adds.

“No--I, what? Are you watching me like a hawk  _ or what _ ?” Tony was almost embarrassed.

“That is one of my many purposes, Boss.” Tony waves his hand around, hoping to -and successfully- silence the AI and it’s most likely true statements.

_ Most likely. _

Tony had convinced himself that he’s always right in the sense of either how he should be feeling or how his actions are justified; and he usually  _ is  _ right.

He’s more likely to be correct in situations he’s experienced earlier on in his life -which can be textbook definition of a lot- but Peter’s situation is one he’s relieved he can say he’s never came across before in his whole time being a genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist until now.

Tony Stark has been accused of and hurt many people in many ways but rape was not and never will be one of them. 

Women would practically drool over him, lining up at his side, there was no reason to use force, not that he would ever even fathom harming a woman -except for villains- in the first place.

_ Everyone _ knew that.

But  _ nobody  _ knew about Peter Parker.

And Tony planned to keep it that way.


	5. Everywhere I go...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The words stung, “No-” he croaked.
> 
> “Peter, you have to tell me or else that’s what i’ll...think…” Happy was thrown off to hear the sob come through the phone, he hoped it wasn’t because of him, but he knew it most likely was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have time to revise this chapter so please forgive me for any errors.  
> This chapter has...angst, pls don't kill me ',:)  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, feel free to comment or leave kudos, both are appreciated and I really like reading the comments you all leave!  
> P.s. i'm super stressed about these exams and commenting about the chapter, -maybe if you liked it or how you hope it plays out- would make me feel better ;-;  
> I also recommend listening to the song 'Save Me' by Jelly Roll

Peter didn’t come down to the lab that morning, and as a matter of fact, he didn’t come out of his room the entire day and it was killing him to hear the looped apologies from Tony, but he was too selfish to face the genius.

He never spoke a single word to anyone, he let himself reboot and reflect on what he did -and has been doing- to those around him.

Many ideals and sentiments fought each other over supremacy in Peter’s head.

None of which he would expect to overthrow another, he was so used to having them work in harmony, in balance against the roars of the outside world.

However, when it came down to it, he had to choose his battles wisely with his teenage mind and suppressed-human-hormones that his tweaked body still threw into the mix.

Even Tony had to keep himself in check with how often he would forget Peter’s a fifteen year old kid, a boy at that.

The last time Peter checked his phone the time read  _ 1:23am. _

Peter was waiting for the floor to be clear before he came out of his room and usually around this time -late into the night- is when Tony is down in the lab, disconnected from the world.

Peter decided to wait until the  _ 2:00am  _ mark before sneaking into the kitchen for a bite to eat, that way if things went south, he could pretend like he was sleepwalking.

Even though it’s very unlikely Tony wouldn’t be in his lab, at least Peter can say he had a plan B.

Well, that’s what he told himself as he slipped out of his room and into the living area.

Peter scanned the room attempting to differentiate furniture and shadows from a Tony.

It had his breath in a lock when he saw something out of the corner of his eye and when he quickly turned, it was a window.

Just the glare of the city lights from below, nothing to worry about.

A breath of relief found its way out louder than expected and had Peter smacking his hand up to his mouth as if it would take back or reverse it.

He mumbled reassurance to himself as he made his way into the kitchen and reached for a pack of cookies that he stashed atop the fridge.

The plastic that covered it crinkled as he pulled it down and the quiet that surrounded him was disrupted with loud crackles and crunches -he hadn’t even opened it yet- that made him flinch with each sound and thought of what or who could follow after it.

This amount of noise in the dead quiet would get  _ anyone’s  _ attention, especially the overly aware Tony Stark.

After the long pauses and short pulls, Peter had the pack open and crumbs lining the outer of his lips which he was unaware of until he sneezed and shot his hand up to cover it.

Peter couldn’t be quiet for the life of him yet for some reason, when it really counted, he couldn’t speak a single syllable.

He brought up the bottom of his shirt and gently brushed the crumbs off -making sure not to smear the dark matter across his upper lip- and into his hand then sprinkled them into the nearby trash.

When Peter pulled out the stool and sat down, he closed his eyes and listened to the quiet.

No loud crackles, no hunger, no painful reminders.

While he sat there it was just silence, the silence he hadn’t experienced -in what felt like ages- since the incident at the gala.

Peter could feel the breeze of the cool vents above, he let himself be taken away by the calming feeling, the steady softness his fingers felt as they hung between his legs and the deep, slow inhales he took while his head hung in exhaustion.

One thing Tony will never seem to understand about Peter is that he never gives you the full story, never about himself, not even when it’s in it for him.

It’s a feeling of exposure -having someone know all the tits and tads of your life- that Peter Parker learned came with  _ every _ time he’d have to explain  _ every _ detail to  _ every  _ officer, doctor, nurse, and worried guardian.

He knew one thing, hindsight can be a real bitch when you’re just a child.

Peter knew that what Skip did -and continued to do- was something he didn’t like, but he only knew what to call it after he overheard the officers arresting Steven Westcott for molestation and rape of a child.

Those words always had a toll on him, always being the trigger in health class for a bathroom pass or a nurse excuse -most in which he was successful, but not all the time since it became a recurring thing and the teachers caught on to his  _ ‘skipping class’ _ as they called it. 

He hated that such a common occurrence held such a detrimental effect on his week.

It got better later on because the schools became authorized to send home a consent slip for both student and guardian to sign -so that both parties have a choice in the matter- saying that they either accept or deny the teaching of sexual education for said student.

May knew what Peter’s response would be -that he’d rather not be in the class while they’re teaching the subject- but she was surprised to have him tell her he’d be okay through the anatomy lessons.

Peter wasn’t all that squeamish until Skip came into view, because after all he went through, Peter didn’t believe he’d ever want to see another naked body again, let alone his own.

When May would ask him why, 6th grade Peter Parker would respond:  _ “Because they’re scary May, and they bring bad things with them.”  _

It was hard for May  _ not  _ to understand some of Peter’s post-Skip lines.

The in depth, short, yet highly understandable responses to questions one shouldn’t have to ask their child, broke May’s huge heart into smithereens.

And when she could put pieces together of what happened to him into why he would do or say the things he does -flinching away from every touch, night terrors, the horrified look he would give when someone called him Einstein- she wished she didn’t have to live with the immense guilt of letting a monster take away her baby boy.

“Still up?” Peter nodded, not giving much attention.

The voice would’ve startled him if the question being asked wasn’t already subconsciously engraved in his brain from numerous encounters- replaying every second like a musical.

When the voice that he answered to didn’t leave a churning feeling in his gut he then looked over his shoulder -brain prepared for a dreadful outcome because anything can deceive- he saw Tony standing a few feet away from him, empty glass in hand wavering behind the island counter top.

“You were a brat today, you know that? Didn’t even apologize or anything! Just stormed off into your- no. The room  _ I  _ gave you to sleep in so you don’t have to deal with your Aunt. You’re becoming more and more like an ungrateful toddler and it’s pissing me off because I can’t say  _ anything _ that isn’t lighthearted without you crying like a fucking  _ baby _ or looking at me like  _ I’m _ the one who fucked  _ you _ up.” Tony said in what sounded like disbelief, but Peter was more than in disbelief, he didn’t expect this, he was lost and scared that every thought, every guilty feeling, was correct; he was ruining the lives of those around him, causing them pain and frustration.

Peter felt the depth of the situation right away.

“Everyone has their own shit, Parker. You just have to know when to stop dropping it in other people's laps. So grow the fuck up, get over it, and stop dragging everyone else around you into your damned world, your black hole of woe is me.”

Peter didn’t respond, he just sat there in awe, feeling the weight of the situation dragging him further and further down.

_ I was being fooled this whole time. _

Tony flung his palms up, “Are you gonna say anything or just stare at me like i’ve got an extra set of fucks to give?” small drops of what Peter assumed to be alcohol -because how else could he rationalize this- trickled onto the counter from the glass.

The painful weight in Peter’s chest continued to spread, “Uhm…” was all Peter could manage before his tears found their way dangerously close to spilling.

The crippling feeling that began to scare Peter didn’t let up and when he tried to leave the kitchen to go back to his room, he was stopped halfway when Tony grabbed his arm.

“You’ve been drinking Mr.Stark, please.” the small tug Peter gave made no budge in the man’s grip, “I-I think you should go to sleep, get some rest s-sir. I’ll go back to my room now, so you don’t have t-to worry a-about me…” Peter trailed off when he saw the look Tony had settled on his face.

It’s expressionless, but cold, he can feel it -or maybe that’s just Peter’s excuse for the goosebumps plastering his arm.

With nothing but silence between the two, Peter’s left to his thoughts and surroundings.

With a spontaneous decision, he made a run for it, yanking his arm away and running towards the elevator while shouting at FRIDAY to open the doors ASAP.

It’s obvious that Tony was caught off guard because when Peter looked over his shoulder he could see Tony spin around in confusion as to how Peter was on the other side of the room.

Peter jabbed the elevator buttons when he saw Tony looking at him enraged, not really paying much attention to their purpose.

He must’ve caught FRIDAY’S attention with the mixed commands for the buttons because her voice soon filled the elevator, “I have set your designated floor to the lobby, Peter. Please let me know if you would like to make any changes.”

“Mmhm.” Peter hummed in the midst of catching his breath, “Thanks, FRI.”

FRIDAY commented on how Peter’s “detected respiratory rate was alarming”, which earned the AI Peter’s annoyance - was she going to care and then all of the sudden not?

Was she going to reveal how much of a nuisance Peter is every Friday when she has to take him to Mr.Stark, or when he can’t understand something as simple as politics so he bombards her with transparent questions?

_ Okay, you’re getting ahead of yourself here. _

_ I don’t understand why he couldn’t have told me he didn’t want me around in the beginning, hell -all of it, that I shouldn’t have even gotten my hopes up to begin with. This whole year is a bust -one damn thing after the next. _

When he finally made it out into the cold night, he stood looking back into the brightly lit tower wondering what’s to come of this awful  _ thing _ .

He didn’t think he’d ever want to go back, not with the hatred it seems Tony had grown for him.

And he was definitely dreading his explanation to May that because of his screwed up life and major interpersonal problems, he lost the Stark internship once again, and not only the internship, but Tony too - and not because someone almost died, oh no, but because he expects too much help from others.

He turned and started down the sidewalk while trying his best to ignore the loud and bright cars rushing past him.

The navy blue hoodie and grey joggers he’s worn for the past two days were doing him justice with the frosty bite of Manhattan's breeze.

The thought of slipping into an alleyway and slapping on his suit had crossed his mind, it was decided as a brief thought when he concluded he needed the time and space away from the bustling rush to debrief and think about the big picture he’d collected from life -the one he really needed to reevaluate.

Peter would always find a way to second guess and overthink little things so he was surprised to have not thought up this scenario yet.

God-only-knows one's true intentions, and thinking cautiously, Peter would rather not stick around for the outcome of a drunken Tony, especially his alarming mannerism.

Peter didn’t think Mr.Stark would hurt him, no, but he also didn't think Mr.Stark would tell him off the way he did in the tower so it’s understandably hard for the boy to believe anything anymore.

Even if good intentions were the basis, walking away from an argument that  _ needed _ to be sorted out, was a bad call on Peter’s half.

The fact that Peter didn’t have the right idea of how an intoxicated person acted or how to handle an intoxicated person -let alone his mentor who he himself hasn’t drank a drop of alcohol around Peter before- led to an overwhelming feeling of being cornered and trapped.

Alcohol has a different effect on everyone, hence the term ‘bad drunk’ and such.

It’s clear to Tony Stark that he was a bad drunk and he was right in making an effort not to drink around Peter, because he knew what would happen -he would act like his father- and it worried him just thinking about Peter’s corrupted look he would be faced with from his spiteful yet untrue remarks.

Peter walked about five miles before sitting down on a set of steps that led up to one of the many houses that lined the sidewalk and he immediately felt the relief rush to his back when his butt pressed onto the chilled stone.

Letting out a deep sigh, he reached into his back pocket to grab his phone, his fingers fumbling atop the screen.

He wanted so badly to go home where Aunt May could lull him to sleep with her whispering reassurances and threading her fingers through his curls but he didn’t want to bother her so early into her sleep.

Peter figured if there was one person he could call who would answer at such a time, it would be the one in charge of his ‘out of Tower’ wellbeing.

Peter tapped gently on  _ Happy Hogan _ ’s contact; “ _ Hey Happy, I hope it isn’t a bother, but I kind of need a favor. I’m sending you this in hopes that you are awake and un-grumpy :)” _

_ Sent. _

The boy intertwined his fingers and rested his chin on them, wishing he had a way to ease the pressure that was starting to build in his temples.

He waited for a couple minutes until he checked his phone; nothing.

He didn’t want to wake Happy if he was actually sleeping by sending another text, so he waited on some strangers front steps, dozing off every now and then until a car would honk and jostle him upright.

He was on the verge of slipping away again until a loud and unbearably high pitched ring erupted from his hoodies front pocket.

He jumped back and snatched his phone, immediately turning off the ringer before answering it.

“H-Hello?” he blurted out.

“Peter? Why the hell are you texting me at three in the morning asking for a favor!? What the hell did you do and is Tony aware of it?” Happy whisper-yelled directly into the phone which caused Peter to hold it away from his ear.

“I’m sorry! I just need a ride back to my apartment, to May.” he paused, “You don’t have to yell at me...I said I was sorry.”

There was a long pause from the other end of the phone, then some rustling of what could be made out as him putting on clothes, like he had prepared for something like this.

The rustling stopped, “So, what happened? Did your web-things break or something, is that why you need a ride home, early patrol went south?”

Peter thought about what he would give for an excuse, but thinking about how Tony made him feel, the tears wouldn’t stop brewing.

“ _ Happy _ .” He begged, “Please, it doesn’t matter, just, just  _ please _ ...it’s  _ freezing _ out here.”

_ Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to. _

Happy stayed silent, no rustling followed and Peter couldn’t help but wonder if Happy was even listening to him, and if he was, why wasn’t Happy already in the car?

Peter took the phone from his ear and held it in front of his face to see if the call had cut out or something but it was on the same screen as before, he stared at the timer on the phone that kept rising in numbers as the silence on the other end stood tainted.

“Hap-” 

“Does it have to do with the night of the gala, Peter?”

The words stung, “No-” he croaked.

“Peter, you have to tell me or else that’s what i’ll...think…” Happy was thrown off to hear the sob come through the phone, he hoped it wasn’t because of him, but he knew it most likely was.

“ _ No Happy. _ It’s  _ not  _ about that, besides, what do  _ you know _ .” he paused, “ It, it was not, okay? It wasn’t.” he corrected in a more forgiving tone.

The tears warmed his cheeks, sending a wave of goosebumps throughout his body, “It was Tony.” Peter said without malice.

It wasn’t hard to tell that Happy was confused because his faint huffs were spaced out, meaning that each time he tried to conclude a scenario, he was dumbfounded at the outcome.

“What? What do you mean  _ Tony?  _ Peter, what happened? I swear kid, if you don’t tell me just what the hell is going on with you, Tony, whatever the hell it is, I'll personally see to it that you don’t get a ride home tonight. Or  _ anywhere _ , yah, yah that’s right kid, i’ll quit being your driver!” Happy sped out, trying to sound threatening, but it went through to Peter as a cry for help to understand.

“It’s never happened before, like-  _ ever _ . I-I didn’t even know he was so, so  _ angry _ a- wi-with me...he was a totally different per- _ person _ , Happy. It was,” he couldn’t find the right word, so he settled on “scary... _ he  _ was  _ scary.”  _ Peter admitted through clenched teeth, the warmth washed across his lip and dripped into his mouth causing the bitter sweet tang.

Peter envisioned the scene once more, he couldn’t bring himself to find a way out of his endless spiral, he could’ve redirected or diffused Tony, but he was too cowardly to do so, too caught up in his head.

Just when Peter was starting to feel the warmth shine down on him like once before, the clouds moved to block the sky and with a rumbling storm the warmth disappeared with no trace of it’s previous existence.

He made sure the next time he thought it up, he would only focus on the reality of what was said, the truth in which Tony’s voice echoed deeply throughout the cold and empty room.

“He was drinking...wasn’t he.” Happy answered troubled.

Now it was Peter's turn to shy away into silence.

The inevitability of it all seemed to have gone right over his head because Happy couldn’t have fathomed Tony breaking the kid down until his only option left was to hide away in the arms of silence.

He was patient, he knew the kid had to process and work it through his stubborn brain.

“I don’t know what i’m gonna do…” Peter’s voice was broken, quiet, and filled with endless damage that he knew would only grow.

“Shit, Peter.” Happy didn’t like hearing such a regularly excited and bubbly Peter sound so gone, it gave him a feeling he could only describe as throbbing… dare he say agony.

More sobs filled the stranger’s doorstep when Peter choked up an apology.

“I-I’m so sorry, ple-please, I don’t know anymore. I can’t find reasoning for  _ anything _ anymore. Everywhere I go...everyone I see, it’s like I'm being casted out by the  _ world.  _ Everything I do frustrates  _ everyone _ . I know it’s selfish of me to think my life has that much meaning, but...but  _ how _ does everyone hate me so much? I, I don’t think they’ll ever stop…”

It was enough, Happy, had heard, enough.

“ Do you know where you are?”

“I’m not sure” he whispered as his head found comfort against the brittle railing.

“That’s okay, i’ll find you Peter,  _ I always will _ .”

Peter thanked Happy the best he could while sniffling back up the snot that would have burned his lip later on.

Peter was grateful that at least one person in this world would drop everything, even work, to come and rescue him from nothing other than himself, because he knew more than the 3- well now 4, out of his 5 contacts would tell him to sleep it off or tell a therapist.

He decided it would be safe to add Tony to the list of people who would basically tell him to go fuck himself if he ever called -just to make sure he didn’t get told off again, because Peter couldn’t handle that.

-

It had been a little over 15 minutes -whether Peter’s time awareness was working or not- and he just started to doze off against the railing that held his head up more than he himself did for the whole day.

It was like the universe didn’t want him to rest either because the vibrating buzz of the phone became apparent to the belly of the boy.

He customized the buzz to replicate the Star Wars theme song, Peter could easily say it was the best advice he ever took from Ned. 

When the screen lit up after pulling it out of his pocket, he read the message that plastered itself across his screen;  _ “Hey kid, I’m right around the corner so hang tight. Be ready to get in.” _

_ “K”  _

He straightened his back and ran a hand through his hair with intention to make it look like less of a rats nest.

His attempt of making him look like his ‘regular’ self might have worked if it wasn’t for the red rimmed eyes, tear tracks that led off his face, and the dull look in his eyes that even the blind could see just by the pain he spoke with.

Moments later, a black Audi pulls up to the curb, shifts into park, and rolls down the drivers side window, “Peter? Common buddy, let's get you home.” Happy tapped atop the door where the window hides away through a crevice. 

Peter hated the way Happy looked at him like he was some injured little bird that fell from it’s nest.

“Be careful walking around th-”

“Got it.” Peter deadpanned.

Happy rolled up his window as the kid opened the passenger side door and sat down with a thump that made it down like his limbs were tied to a chain ball.

Happy didn’t say a word as the kid sat there, staring ahead at the traffic light as it changed from green to yellow, “Thank you,” Peter began and before Happy spat out anything, he continued, “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you left me here.” he paused with a huff, “...probably nothing. Doing absolutely nothing without the help of others seems to be my specialty.” Peter didn’t want to be ‘woe is me’ like Tony had stated earlier, but he finally had someone who would listen to him that didn’t know about his past, he could have a fresh slate with Happy until he decided to not keep the older man in the dark for any longer.

Happy eyed Peter's hands as they contorted in different positions and his fingers picked at each other, the nervousness was clear to Happy and hard for him to ignore, “Did Tony tell you that?” he asked.

The tear that dripped down his face was a big enough answer as itself for the man to push forward.

“Do you...want to talk about it? I’ll listen the best I can, I’m all ears if you’re up for it!”

Happy tried to sound encouraging but the bubbling anger for Tony was coming dangerously close to being visible.

His voice must’ve been a little too loud at the end and that’s why Peter was quick to cower in his seat with his hands cupping the sides of his head as the throbbing in his skull spread to his ears like lightning.

“Sorry, is it your head? Do you have a headache? I bet your enhanced body isn’t taking all this too well, am I right?” Happy kept questioning in hopes to get a little more out of the kid or maybe annoying him enough so that Peter would tell him to shut up and in the end tell him what happened.

He figured to lean towards the first of his hopes when Peter gave him a small nod in return.

With that being said -or rather gestured- , Happy shifted the gear into drive and pulled right, merging into the light traffic of the city.

Peter internally thanked Happy for turning on the radio to a soft instrumental station that had no high pitched violins or loud voices, just calm music to drift your attention elsewhere.

Which was exactly what happened to Peter about two minutes into the second song, the slow rhythm was enough to bring forth the exhaustion he had felt only moments ago.

Happy had something of a smile on his face when he glanced over to see the kid shoving his head between the window and the chair with his hands shyly poking out of his sleeves.

His knees were touching and his feet were crossed, weighing on the tips of his heels, his most favorable position when it came to being comfortable in a car ride, after all, Manhattan was a bit far from Queens.

Happy hoped the kid would sleep most, if not all the way to his apartment.

As the lights of buildings passed out of view and new ones came into perspective, Happy found himself thinking about the similar look he saw in Peter’s eyes, the one he remembers as Tony’s.

The look of abandonment and betrayal he saw on Tony’s face after the battle with Steve in Siberia was something he had never seen before, not even when Tony’s father would make a hurtful remark or withdraw affection, because Tony expected that, he knew his father could care less, but Steve was his friend, someone he trusted to have his back.

It’s not much that Happy finds himself thinking about his and Tony’s relationship.

But that call from Peter tonight, it’s almost all he can think about, the carelessness it seems Tony presented in front of Peter was something he was told to prevent if he was around for such an occasion. 

“What the  _ hell _ was he _ thinking _ ?” Happy angrily mumbled under his breath, mentally cursing Tony a whole lot more.

-

“Kid? We’re here…” Happy spoke in a calming voice, soft enough not to startle the boy as he pulled up to the curb where the entrance to Peter’s apartment building stood.

He put the car in park and turned to face Peter in his seat, studying his face to see if he was awake.

With no response from Peter, Happy assumed he was still asleep, “Peter, common buddy, we’ve arrived at your building. Time to wake up.” Happy tried a little louder while placing his hand on Peter's shoulder, rubbing his thumb softly as not to startle him.

Peter’s eyes slowly fluttered open, squinting at the bright light that managed to bleed in through the tinted windows. 

“Mm...here?” The boy whispered breathy as he lightly stretched his legs and arms.

Happy hummed and patted the kid on the shoulder, only then did Peter have the awareness to realize his hand was on their before, when he woke up.

His eyes flickered to the retracting hand and then to the older man's darkened face, he just sat there, staring intently into Happy’s eyes.

He could tell Happy was uncomfortable with the staring so he wanted to ask him an important question but he couldn’t find it in himself to do so, not after hearing about how all he ever did was ask others for favors.

Happy was confused as to why Peter was looking into his soul like that but then he saw it.

The kid was sitting with his upper half twisted, facing the older man, the shine of tears in his eyes threatening to escape, the look only a person in need would give, and the tight grip he had on his seat-belt was harrowing.

When Happy didn’t signal that he got the message, Peter slowly unbuckled and turned around, fingers draped over the door handle like he was waiting for Happy to stop him, tell him what he wanted so badly to he-

“Would you like me to come up with you? It wouldn’t be a bother, I swear on it.”

Happy sighed in relief when the kid nodded, “Yes please…” he whispered sweetly enough to put a soft tint on Happy’s cheeks.

Peter slowly opened the door and shut it behind him once he saw that Happy was doing the same and he couldn’t help but to be grateful for Happy and his newly found kindness...it made all the difference.

“Thank you.” Peter said, hiding a deeper meaning, “Thank you.” he whispered softly to himself as if to wipe away the guilt of wasting Happy’s time, but hey, at least he was thanking him for his troubles.

The uneasiness started to set in when the two made it into the elevator.

Different scenarios played in Peter’s head; What if May asks questions? What if she’s sleeping when they get there and they wake her up? What excuse could he use this time? What...what if she finds out about what happened between him and Tony? Would she be mad, would she yell at him and tell what a terrible kid he was?

“After you,” a tired voice spoke, reeling the boy out of his static headspace.

Peter stood their eyeing the gold knob wondering if this was a good decision.

There were so many excuses Peter could concoct but most of then would deem alarming, so he settled on a simpler, “What if she’s sleeping?” he said, barely even a whisper while his eyes stayed glued to the door.

Happy let out another sigh and assured the kid that they wouldn't be that loud so he shouldn't worry his pretty little head about it.

Peter didn’t even blink but his body was starting to sway, and Happy didn’t like the usual outcome of such so he pressed his hand against the upper of his back, with a slight jolt from the boy, Happy had to ask, “Is there something you’re not telling me, Peter? Because if there is, you can tell me, I promise nothing bad will come out of it. Well, not from my end at least.” the lump of nausea started to grow in Peter, his hand lunged forward onto the knob and turned it outward, slowly opening the surprisingly quiet door.

If anything, it looked to Happy like coming home was the last thing the kid wanted to do.

The apartment would’ve been pitch black if the moonlight wasn’t shining through the windows and reflecting off the dirty countertop that hasn’t been tended to since Peter’s absence. 

It saddened Peter so see May let the place go like this, to the point where dust accumulated in every crevice and takeout boxes scattered the coffee table giving an unpleasant smell to the already musty apartment.

“Gross.” Happy deadpanned, “It smells like something died in here.”

Happy apologized once he saw the look on Peter’s face staring back at the clutter, the kid was genuinely confused at the sight, it wasn’t something he’d often come home to by the looks of it.

They made their way into the kitchen area and Happy flipped a switch he assumed turned on the lights that hovered above them, and he was wrong in doing so because Peter quickly, yet kindly demanded he turn the lights off and reminded him that the light might find its way into May’s room and get her attention.

Happy ignores the cry for help his eyes were giving him and does as told, earning him a quiet thanks from Peter.

While the kid wandered about, doing something Happy’s unsure of, he took into consideration the weight Peter’s being forced to carry on his shoulders and decides the least he could do is help clean up the place; starting with the foam containers littered across the coffee table.

The scene got worse and worse as Happy stood next to the couch, taking in the unsightly view; not only were there take-out containers, but used tissues scattered atop the cushions, some even wedged between them, and bills tucked underneath it all.

His face contorted into what many would call disgust, others would argue something along the lines of confusion.

But as he carefully picked up each tissue and stuffed them into the somewhat empty containers, until he couldn’t anymore, he realized something.

Happy realized that if this was true, and May had truly become this...disconnected, Peter is going to have to carry the job of helping her get back on her feet, a responsibility not that of a childs.

The burn only grew in his chest, not lightening, not even for a second.

_ Is this what he feels every day? The burning pit of not knowing? _

For once in his life, he didn’t  _ know _ what was going on, he didn’t understand what was happening.

Whether it be the fact that Tony, by the sounds of it, completely dehumanized the kid right in front of him, or that Peter is a 15 year old kid who gives everything but receives nothing but bad in return.

Hovering over the garbage can, the older man tosses away the trash, feeling somewhat accomplished as he looks over at the much cleanlier sight.

“Happy?” a small voice croaks, “I- She’s not here, I can’t find her anywhere.”

It nearly startled the man seeing a dark figure pop out from around the corner, “Your aunt isn’t here? Did you check her bedroom and the bathroom?” 

“She’s gone,” Peter replied sadly, “I checked.”

The boy walked closer, finally coming into the light that shone through the windows, his eyes flickering about and his hands nervously fidgeting.

“Hey, Hey, it’s alright, okay? Don’t...don’t start that. Do you know if she’s working? Nights maybe? I know it’s hard to use your brain when you're stressed, but let’s just calm down.” Happy made his way over to Peter and set a reassuring hand on his shoulder, only to take in off rather quickly as not to make him uncomfortable.

Peter nodded and held a finger up to his lip, tracing the striations that engraved them then walked off into his room, Happy quietly following.

Happy decided to stay quiet as Peter began to rummage through his belongings, eventually making his way over to his desk and shuffling some sheets of paper in his hands, pulling out a scribbled mess.

Peter smirked at the scribbles, “My best web formula yet...can’t believe I actually did it.”

“What,” Happy sighed, “I don’t see how that has any-”

“Look,” Peter interrupted, flipping around the piece of paper in his hand and holding it up to Happy, “It’s May’s work schedule!”

Happy saw what only could be called a light in Peter’s eyes...dull, but still there.

_ He feels of use, he feels he’s accomplished something for once. _

Peter hands the paper over and looks for approval.

After Happy had checked to make sure the year and month were correct -because his desk and the mess from the living room could definitely be compared- he scanned over the small boxes that marked the days, concerned of how many ‘extra shift’ reminders were in a handful of them, his eyes flickered to the current day.

“It says your aunt’s working nights tonight,” he pauses, holding the paper closer to get a better look, when doing so, Peter is quick to turn on a small lamp that sat on the corner of his desk, “that’s better! Oh, okay, so it  _ also  _ says she plans on ‘driving to Martha’s after work’. Martha? Do you have any idea who that is?” Happy finishes.

“I think that’s her coworker slash friend. I’ve never met her before but she seems like a really nice lady.” Peter admits sweetly.

Happy can tell Peter’s warming up because his speech is more carried out and thorough.

Happy sets the paper down on Peter’s bed, “Here’s an idea, why don't you put that on the fridge? That way you can look at it whenever you please.”

Peter thinks about it for a second but decides on just keeping it in his room, also adding that he’ll be sure to put it in a safer place next time.

“You better.” Happy playfully scolded.

A genuine smile tugged at Peter’s cheeks and a faint urge bubbled to the surface.

A few seconds passed,“Well, if that’ll be all,” the last thing the man wanted to do was out stay his welcome, “ I should get going now, get outta your hair.”

The teen’s smile was short-lived because Happy’s words hit him like a speeding bus.

Head on, no brakes, no warning, just blunt force barreling towards him.

Was it something he said? Maybe something he did hinted in Happy’s mind that his presence was no longer wanted? Did...did he ask for too much help, was it a selfish idea to have Happy drive him home?

If only Happy knew how much worry he stirred up in Peter’s overthinking and traumatized mind.

Peter found himself following Happy to the door, like his brain was begging him to do something about it, pleading for him to stop Happy from leaving him all alone in the night.

Peter started to panic when Happy’s hand became dangerously close to the door knob, opening and closing his mouth trying to find the right words while this was happening in front of him at what he deemed overwhelmingly fast.

“Happy!” he shouted with a frightened, almost angry voice that startled the man greatly.

“Holy  _ shit _ , kid.” Happy tried his best to calm his nerves, “What is it?” squinting his brows in confusion because as far as he could tell, he wasn’t doing anything wrong, he wasn’t even  _ near _ a light switch.

Peter’s eyes flicked to Happy’s chest in an effort to avoid eye contact with the startled, likely upset man; the urge, now throbbing.

He thought about it, the consequences, the outcomes, the pros, the cons, all of it.

In the end he decided to discard the consequences and just go for it.

The boy might have lunged a little too hard because when he threw himself at Happy and wrapped his little arms around the large man, he squashed him against the door.

It would’ve been funny in another mindset, but right now it was purely out of comfort.

Happy was caught-off-guard to say the least when the kid was suddenly glued to him without warning.

Happy wasn't sure how to put it into words so he just put it into action, returning the hug full heartedly as if he knew exactly what Peter was trying to tell him, as if he knew how much the hug meant to Peter, that it was in fact their very first hug and it meant something deeper than any outsider could understand.

Like they were in command, the tears started pouring out of Peter’s eyes like torrents and his sobs echoed throughout the small moonlit apartment.

The grip tightened on Happy’s shirt and the boy pressed himself tighter against Happy’s chest, craving the kind touch of someone who cared for him, something he’d been missing out on the past few hours...days.

The surge of protectiveness that Tony once explained coursed through him, was happening to Happy, just like he remembered.

_ “It’ll come when you least expect it, a lot like my father in that department. Glad it didn’t happen in front of anyone or else I would’ve had to peel him off like a dried up fish. When it first happened I thought it was a god awful feeling, but I was just looking at it from a bad angle. So here’s how it played out. Peter came over to work in the lab with me, a few months after we met. We had a fantastic time, mainly him though because he got to work with my fancy equipment. Let me tell you what, I’ve never seen a human being literally drool over some tech. But that’s besides the point. We were just about to get off the elevator into the lobby, so he could get home early, and out of nowhere, he just hugs me! He literally turned around and squeezed me, thanking me for letting him work in the lab. It was unsettling receiving such...affection!” _

_ “Mmhm, very convincing Tony.” _

_ “ Whatever, believe what you will, Hap. But I'll never forget it, never ever. I don’t think I've ever wanted to fight for something so badly before.” _

_ “How sweet. Now, for god’s sake can you please start working on those prototypes you promised a week ago?!” _

“I’m sorry, please,” he took an unsteady breath, “M’ sorry!” he croaked.

“Kid-” Happy tried to intervene but was unsuccessful.

“I’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m-” he gasped for the air that he was neglecting to take in, “I’m sorry!” the boy whispered on repeat.

Happy leaned harder against the door because his legs were starting to ache from standing for too long, “Just- ah, mmhm just calm down Peter, we can get through this together if you just tell me what’s bothering you, you can tell me as much as you’d like.”

Happy received no answer but a heart crushing sob instead, and the creeping fear that Peter was eventually going to break began to eat away at him and Happy decided then and there that he was going to do his very best to make sure that didn’t happen.


	6. I'm Not Turning My Back On You Now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He turned into the living room to find a half-snoring Happy sprawled across the couch and he was pretty surprised the man was anywhere near the couch with how he was describing it like an abomination only a bit ago. Nonetheless, he was just glad to see Happy was getting some shut eye.

Warmth started to seep through the man's shirt, soaking the fabric through and through until there was a sizable patch.

Happy began rubbing circles on the boys back and supportive coos filled the apartment.

“You aren’t alone in this kid, I'm with you. I’m going to help you, I promise. Please Peter, you have to know that you aren’t alone.”

Happy gives the kid one last squeeze before pushing him back to get a look at his face, gently pulling Peter’s hand away as he tries to cover up any traces of his tears, “Look at me Peter,” once Peter directs his gaze, Happy continues, “you see me, yes?” Peter nods.

“Good. Can you see that I'm not leaving, that I'm not turning my back on you to walk out this door?” Happy pointed behind him while his left hand stayed firmly gripped to Peter’s shoulder.

Peter’s eyes flicked to the door then back at Happy, he gives a slow nod, “I don’t know exactly what happened between you and Tony, but I  _ do know _ that I’d never make you feel like you’re less of a person.” Happy could tell his tone was getting spiteful.

“It’s not my thing.” he ended with.

The boy rubbed at his face once Happy quieted down, wiping away the tears, as well as some snot that managed to smear onto Happy’s shirt.

Happy pulled Peter’s hand away, not wanting to make the kid feel even worse for soiling his shirt.

“Don’t worry about it, I've been drenched in worse!” he quipped.

He also tried to ignore the guilty look Peter still had on his face when he pulled his sleeved arm down back to his side.

Happy thought it would be best if they sat somewhere instead of becoming dizzy after standing for so long, “Could we sit down somewhere? I might just collapse if I stand in this spot for any longer.” 

Peter nodded and pointed to his bedroom, earning a raised brow from the older man.

The boy briefly sighed, “I figured you wouldn’t want to sit on a tissue covered couch.” he clarified.

With no objections, Peter made way into his bedroom, turning on the lamp next to his bed for extra light, seeming that the one on his desk was considerably small.

With Happy standing in the doorway, waiting for the kid to instruct him on where he’s allowed to sit, Peter quickly snatched the paper off his bed and placed it back on his desk -he could find a place for it later.

The boy took a seat on the edge of his bed and waited for Happy to move, he was confused and to why the man was still standing -after all, he was the one who said he’d rather-

“Oh! Sorry, my bad. You can sit wherever, I don’t mind. But I do have to give caution to the swivel chair, it kinda breaks...a lot.” Peter gave Happy a faint smile and waited as the man made his way over and sat next to him on the bed. 

Peter scooted over a tad, feeling a strong sense of deja vu.

_ We sat like this once...Mr.Stark.  _

The two kept quiet for a moment, trying to concoct the perfect sentence.

Peter just tried to think of what not to say in hopes not to worry Happy or have him ask too many questions -just the thought of being bombarded with questions and being expected to answer them, it’s overwhelming to say the least.

But everytime he tried to, he just couldn’t, as Happy sat there taping his fingers, all Peter could think about was  _ what’s going to happen next. _

_ What do I do? _

Peter wanted to say what he was feeling but he couldn’t put it in words, at least words that didn’t scream  _ you can’t help me, even I can’t help me. _

“I’m falling ap-p-part!” he wept, hands clenching his knees and more tears falling, they made a soft patter upon impact.

“Gah! They won’t stop!” he laughed falsely in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Pity struck Happy’s face as he wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulders, “shhh, it’ll be okay, I won’t let that happen. I made a promise earlier, remember?” he squeezed the boy close.

“Try and relax, your headache will only worsen if you keep crying. Try not to upset yourself Peter, if you can, don’t even think about any of it. Not why you’re not at the Tower, not why i’m here with you at your apartment, none of it.”

“You’re right, Happy,” he inhaled deeply, “you’re right.” he exhaled.

“It’s all in my head.”

“No, not necessarily. You have every right to be upset.  _ Every  _ right, Peter.” Happy said firmly to make himself clear on the matter.

The boy shrugged and then continued to wipe the free flowing tears from his face while his legs tensed and his heart ached, “I guess...” he sniffled.

“You guessed right kid. Now, for the sake of my throat, mind if I get us some water?.” Happy joked because he knew the kid’s throat was gonna hurt later on from the crying and talking combined; he was already starting to lose his voice when he would talk too loudly.

Peter nodded before Happy scooted off the bed, only to grab his hand, pulling him back with a kind “I’ll get it! You can sit down...I can only imagine how tired you must be.” he gave his own tired smile in respondents to Happy’s.

Happy stayed put as Peter walked out into the kitchen and he started to wonder whether he should’ve taken on the responsibility of keeping Peter on his feet because Happy barely knows anything personal about the kid, the most personal thing he knows is where the kid lives.

And Happy seriously doubts the kid will just flat out open up to him, there’s no way it’ll be that easy, it will take time and trust to help Peter feel comfortable enough to start letting Happy in. 

_ This is a place I have no business being in.  _

But the man must give credit where credit is due.

In all Peter’s efforts, Happy had only seen the very surface in which it had settled, and Happy was already beyond himself.

“Here you go…” he hands Happy a glass, the only glass left in the cabinet because the rest were missing, maybe they were in the dishwasher, or broken because he did see some glass shards in the trash.

“Thanks Peter.” Happy smiled but it fell once he saw no glass in Peter's hand. 

“Not thirsty?”

“Something like that.” the boy mumbled with a strange expression, leaving Happy staring into his glass, eyes tracing the soft bubbles that hung around the bottom.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Happy spoke up once Peter sat back down next to him.

The boy laughed awkwardly, “It  _ is _ my apartment Hap. Where else would I be?”

Peter held his knuckle up to Happy’s glass, waiting for him to clink it up against it, he drew his hand closer and Happy picked up what Peter was ever so politely putting down, he gently tapped his glass against Peter’s knuckle, trying his best not to flick the glass too harshly.

“That’s not what I meant.” the older man whispered.

Peter was soon to realize what the older man truly meant and he smiled when his head played it once more.

Peter couldn’t help but lean against Happy, and not only just his shoulder, but his support as well.

“I’m glad that makes one of us!” he huffed.

Happy didn’t respond and just rested his hand on Peter’s head, stroking his soft brown curls and brushing them away from his forehead.

There was mutual relief when the room stayed silent, an exception was made for the beeping monitor that sat on Peter’s banged up desk.

Happy stood up quickly and it was easy to tell he was going to do so because he got pretty antsy beforehand.

Peter looked up and there were hands on his shoulders and eyes looking right at him, his heart spiked for a moment, a thick swallow followed as the hands remained untainted.

Happy ignored the look he got and started with “Sleep! You need sleep, kid. You’ll feel pretty terrible if you don't rest, your body will be all sluggish and droopy. You ever had the flu? Hay fever?”

The boy nods and Happy continues, “Well that’s what I’m gonna compare it to. Maybe a little less cough and a little more heavy limbs. And don’t think for a  _ second _ that I plan on being your personal lackey just because you don’t feel a hundred-percent.” he makes a point of playfully smacking Peter’s flushed cheek before taking his hands off, “Hmm?” he tweaks a smile before resting his hands on his hips tiredly.

Peter looks up at him without question, kneading his thumb into his palm, his eyes flicker to his hands and he stops.

He scoots himself back further onto the bed without looking up, the look he would give -if it wasn’t for the heaviness his face was feeling- to make up for the lack of better words would be a real tear jerker. 

Instead it was just as expressionless as ever, if it was intended as Peter thought, he had just about had enough of this game.

“You wanna go, don't you.” 

“Do you want me to?”

“No!” he shouted before he sprung up, “That’s not what I meant!” The boy was quick to defend.

The man flinched backward, startled.

Peter’s chest heaved and his palms were clammy, he saw the look in Happy’s eyes, “You can leave if you want to. It’s okay if you do, i’ll be fine by myself.”

The boy tried his best to calm his nerves as he stepped away and went to sit at his desk, he started to pick up small parts that were left over from his last build and put them in a small tin that he had sitting back against the wall.

Peter was trying his best to distract himself, maybe forget everything that just happened and substitute it with picking up his crap.

Happy stood in place and he studied the boy that Tony took such a liking to, the boy that he himself was starting to care for, he studied the frantic and shaky hands that fiddled with junk that the boy considered ‘parts to a greater whole’, as he would say.

“If you say so,” Happy rubbed the back of his neck.

Peter felt a sharp pain tug at his heart, hell, he felt an overwhelming and scary amount loathe for the universe at this point, and nobody,  _ nobody,  _ could blame him.

And yet, Peter couldn’t see it that way, he never did and he always took the blame for others' wrongdoings, no matter the lack of his own involvement.

“Ok” his brittle voice whispered, “Have a good night, Happy.”

Happy bit his lip, “You too, kid.” he softly spoke before walking out.

_ I have no business being here,  _ Happy told himself.

It was the only way he could lessen the guilt he felt, not that it was working as well as he would’ve liked it to.

But  _ boy, was it killing him. _

The man took a good look around the once littered apartment, mentally noting that it needed a good sweeping and to throw in a good mop job too.

“Goodnight Peter.” Happy whispered to himself, “Stay safe, kid.”

The door creaked as he opened it and it override another obnoxious sound erupting from behind him.

He paused and held the door still to listen.

He heard the sound come from Peter’s bedroom as he walked closer, it suddenly stopped.

Happy turned back and shut the door, maybe he was just hearing thi-

“M-Mister Stark?”

His head shot up and he jogged into Peter’s room immediately, startling the boy when he grabbed Peter’s chair and spun it around, staring right at the kid’s pale face.

Peter’s eyes flicked to the phone in his hand then back to Happy’s face, he didn’t know what to say as Happy loomed over him uncomfortably close and Tony stayed silent on the other end, but the boy’s eyes gave it away.

Happy snatched the phone from Peter’s hand and Peter couldn’t help but start to cry because Happy had scared him and Tony was calling him and it all seemed to come crashing down way too fast for him.

“Tony?” the older man growled, “ Tony.” he called when he got no response.

Happy stared into Peter’s eyes, boring a hole in them while Peter just looked frantically at Happy aggressive manner.

“Hap...Happy? What th- how did you get Peter’s phone? Are you with him? Are you with Peter right now?!” the voice came across rushed and slurred.

The man’s grip on Peter’s chair only tightened and Tony’s voice rang in his head, his grip on Peter’s cell phone made his fingers pale.

“What the  _ hell is wrong with you _ ,  _ Tony.”  _ he almost asked himself the same question as Peter cowered underneath him in his small swivel chair.

“Welp, for starters, actually... the list is too long to read.” Tony chuckled on the other end and it made the rage in Happy flourish, and his temper was about the boil over.

“Do you have even the  _ faintest  _ damn clue how Peter feels right now?!” the man averted his gaze so as to not make the kid feel like he was the one getting yelled at, he moved his hand to Peter’s shoulder and squeezed it briefly.

He wanted Peter to know that he was going to handle this.

It might not be handled in the best way, but he sure as hell was going to give his own two cents on the matter because Tony had not only affected Peter, Happy fell victim as well.

Plus, Happy couldn’t go back on his promise now, he’d already made up his mind. 

“Uhhh...I don’t know, you tell me.  _ You’re _ the one with  _ his  _ phone. That’s a rhetorical question if you ask me.” Tony snarled.

“Well I  _ didn’t fucking ask you _ , Tony! Do you even  _ want _ to know what Peter feels like after what you did? Or are you too much of a coward to admit that you  _ screwed up.” _

Happy’s breathing picked up but the other end became quiet, he directed his gaze back to Peter.

Peter’s chest was rising and falling much faster than Happy’s and his eyes were glossy and his hands were gripping one another atop his chest.

Happy held the phone forward to Peter, nudging for the boy to say something if he so pleased.

Peter’s eyes fell upon the lit up screen and they flickered about the icons before his hand slowly took the phone, he held it up to his ear and kept his eyes on Happy to stay grounded and to know he wasn’t alone.

“Tony,” he whispered.

“What now,  _ what the fuck is it now, _ huh!?” a booming shout came from the other end and had Peter quietly sobbing, he shoved the phone back into Happy’s hand and violently shook his head.

“That was Peter, Tony. He was trying to talk to you. Maybe he was going to tell you how he felt. But you screamed at him _.  _ Way to go. _ ”  _ he spoke calmly but didn’t mask the malice in his voice, because right now, Tony didn’t deserve kind words, he didn’t deserve kind  _ anything,  _ to Happy.

“Since he can’t tell you how he feels, I guess I’ll have to, won’t I, Tony.”

Happy didn’t see any signs that Peter was protesting, so he carried on.

“Tony,” he started, “ What you did was a terrible thing, what you said was terrible, what you let happen,  _ was terrible _ . Do you even remember what you told me when Peter started to spend more time around you? Because I do. ‘Don’t ever let me drink around this kid, Happy. I can’t trust myself.’ ‘ I don’t care how little it is or whatever reason I give. I’m not allowed anywhere near Peter when I’ve had something to drink.’ ‘ Promise me, if you’re there, you’ll stop it before it happens.’ And now look what you’ve done, Tony. You did the one thing I couldn’t stop you from. You did the one thing you swore not to do. And look where it’s taken you.” Happy ended the list because his memory started to run dry, and it was clear that Tony was incapable of fully processing what Happy was even saying.

Happy paused to try and steady his voice before he said any more, the sting in his eyes subsided as he looked on at Peter’s pale, but red, face.

Once he gathered himself, he continued, “You dehumanized Peter. You practically tore his  _ heart  _ out of his chest. This kid has been through so much and yet this is what you turn around and do. I don’t really know what to say, Tony. I’m confused, I’m shocked! I don’t know what to say to you Tony, I really don’t.” the man huffed and ran a hand through his hair as he waited for Tony to lash out again from the other end, but it was silent.

He figured Tony was pissed and searching for the right slur to throw at him.

Peter’s body was practically vibrating and his chest felt heavy, the suspense was eating away at him while he pressed further into his chair -if that was even possible at this point- and stared back up at Happy’s tightened face.

A quiet chime played and the screen on the phone returned blank.

_ The bastard hung up. _

Happy angrily looked down at the phone in his hand and slammed it down on the desk to the left of them, “Are you okay?” a concerned voice spoke.

Happy huffed, “Are you?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Peter barely shrugged as a tear fell onto his chest, his hum crackled.

It stung.

Happy pulled Peter forward so that he was sitting upright in the wonky chair, the man looked on in distress at the shaking boy in front of him and the thought of needing to comfort him spoke loudly upon entrance.

Happy pulled Peter into a tight embrace, “I know you’re not okay, kid. I’m sorry you had to be a part of that just now.” each word stung as they left his mouth and this kid that was now latching onto him, was able to share the same feeling, sadly enough.

Stubborn tears of Happy’s own combined with the tears of Peter’s that soaked his shirt just a little while ago, the two held on tightly to each other in fear that they would lose one another, whatever might be the cause.

“This world is so screwed up, kid. I don’t know why you have to deal with this. It’s so unfair.”

Peter shook against Happy’s chest, “It’s okay…” he sniffed.

_ No, no it’s not okay, Peter. None of this is okay. _

“You’re too good for this world, Peter.” The saddened man grabbed the fabric of the kid’s hoodie like his life depended on it, he was so angry, but hurt and confused at the same time and he couldn’t help but think about how much worse Peter probably -no, definitely- feels right now, or maybe Peter is too far gone to feel it anymore.

Happy pushes the thought away as he hears the pained cries of the boy in front of him.

_ Life isn’t kind enough to take it away, the ability to hurt. _

Peter mumbles something to Happy but with his face stuffed into Happy’s chest, it was inaudible.

“What was that, bud?” Happy pulls Peter’s head up and brushes the damp curls from Peter’s face.

_ What am I doing? _

Peter blinked slowly and wiped his face with his sleeve, he was starting to get hot in the thick sweatshirt and knew he needed to take it off sooner rather than later.

“Recently,” Peter looked down, “ It feels like everything’s slipping from my fingers and-and I don’t have control over any of it, no matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to get a grip. It’s…” Peter hesitates.

“Scary?” Happy chimed in and he earned a nod from Peter.

“I bet I’d feel the same way If I was in your position.” he assured.

“Really?” The boy sat back in the chair while Happy straightened back upright.

“Really.” Happy assured him and patted his cheek in a friendly manner, “I won’t lie to you, Peter. Not now, not ever.”

_ “Not ever.”  _

_ Sounds like he’ll be with me for a long time,  _ Peter liked that thought.

Peter smiled as much as he could in the state he was in, “ Thank you Happy, really.”

Something about what Peter kept saying felt offley familiar, he just didn’t know what from.

“Anytime, kid. Anytime. If you ever need me just holler and I'll come running. But I better keep hearing ‘thank you’ from you in the future. It’s what I expect as compensation.” he smiled back.

He said it in a joking manner but it was anything but; if he was called, he would find a way to be there, no matter the time.

Happy huffed and nibbled the inside of his cheek. 

Happy definitely was not going to leave after the phone call with Tony, he needed to make sure that Tony didn’t call again even _ more _ drunk, or try to give a half-assed apology that was gonna end with Peter in ruins, or even worse….show up.

He stood there and zoned out while thinking of where he could sleep, and the couch really didn’t strike his fancy after all the dirty tissues he plucked from it, nor did anywhere else, he was in a tight spot.

Happy wanted to stay the night at the apartment with Peter from the get-go, but he also didn’t want to have the kid worry about him or act differently because of his presence. Happy just wanted Peter to be able to relax, however he may, the kid just needs to take a chill pill.

Happy never would have thought in all his years that he would end up giving advice to a mentally unstable 15 year old kid from Queens who happens to be Spider-Man. Yeah, definitely didn’t cross his mind up until now.

“...-py?” 

His eyes drew to focus and laid on Peter.

“Happy...are you  _ really _ okay?” the soft voice spoke. The sound didn’t seem to match up with the movement of Peter’s lips, but Happy gave no mind to it, the sound rang shortly in his head, each time sounding more distant and fizzy, like he was underwater or in the dead of winter in some snow blanketed forest.

“Happy,” the voice said urgently and the next thing he knew, his hand was being tugged and a Pair of eyes were staring right back into his. He initially tilted backwards but was soon to return when the boy took a good step back, chair rolling behind him.

“What’s wrong?” the pair of doe-eyes asked, the tension on his hand released and he subconsciously raised a brow.

“Nothing, nothing, just spaced out for a second, that’s all.” the man scratched his chin, “I changed my mind. I think I should stay the night here, with you.” he proposed as the boy pushed the swivel chair that was in dire need of being replaced back towards it’s spot by the desk.

Happy’s reassurance wasn’t as reassuring as he thought. Peter still worried slightly about Happy for spacing out like that and the kid couldn’t help but rally up some crazy thoughts that might have drawn Happy out like that.

However, he wasn’t about to pester Happy about it either. That would be bothersome on his part and definitely not something he would want to bring to the table with how much time and sleep Happy is willing to put aside for him tonight, and it was already past 3am.

Peter remained soft spoken when he asked Happy why he changed his mind, he didn’t want to startle him after spacing out, he knew all too well about the repercussions of that, “I’m not complaining, but why did you change your mind? I’m glad you decided to stay….” 

Happy was about to open his mouth then the teen cut him off, “Actually, you don’t have to answer that. Forget I asked.” the boy made an awkward laugh.

_ I’m not sure if I really wanna know. _

Happy knew why Peter wanted to know, the same as why he didn’t. He knew that Peter felt it was his fault, that he did something wrong and Happy leaving was his punishment. The underlying fear that what Happy was going to say was something along the lines of Peter’s annoyance, made the kid second guess himself, and it wasn’t the first time he had done so that night.

-

“So,” Happy clapped once, “what are you going to do for the next twenty minutes?” he tested.

Peter smirked, “First,” he began.

The two settled on Happy sleeping in Peter’s bed and Peter sleeping on the couch in the living room. It was definitely not something Happy brought up or even notioned at, but Peter wouldn’t stop insisting on it. It was beginning to drive Happy up the wall and he didn’t want to be in a mood so he gave into the boy who was practically begging for him to be the more comfortable one out of the two.

Peter really didn’t mind that he’d be sleeping on the sofa. There were countless afternoons and restless nights when he had slept soundly on it, bathing in the moonlight that shone through the windows.

“I’m going to uhh…” the boy put on his thinking face and tapped his chin, “i’m gonna...bear with me…hmm” he joked

“Peter, jesus christ, kid. As long as you got it,  _ do it.  _ Now hurry up, it’s already late,...-early.”

_ What is it dammit?! _

_ Late, but 4:27 am is not late, it’s...early. But it’s late into the night but early into the morning?  _

_ Shit. _

“Peter!” he snipped, the teen stepped out of the bathroom, toothbrush in hand, “Ye’h?” he tried, not wanting the bubbly drool to drip onto the floor.

“Late or early?”

“E’rly o’ ‘ourse!” he exclaimed without spitting anything, he gave a nod back and stepped into the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth before taking a swish of mouthwash.

The man hummed, “That’s what I thought.” he stated to no one but himself -at least he thought-, however, Peter had thought  _ how ‘Happy’ of him, _ when he heard the man mumble under his breath. 

_ Heightened hearing does come with it’s perks. _

Granted, there has been quite a few conversations that Peter could go living on without hearing, like the one between Ned and Mr.Stark when they first met, he couldn’t help but overhear the overwhelming questions about if Peter was an Avenger or not and what Tony did when he wasn’t saving New York from alien life force. And don’t even get him started on the awkward sounds Tony made each time he would open his mouth only to shut it when Ned would jump in with something else to ask.

Tony liked to call him ‘Jabber the Hutt’, and as much as Peter preferred Mr.Stark not to call his friend names, he loved Star Wars, and to be fair, the nickname  _ was _ , and  _ still is _ , pretty accurate.

“I have an extra toothbrush underneath the sink if you wanna use it. You can also take a shower if you want, Happy. Make yourself at home.” Peter mumbled as he wiped the toothpaste residue off his upper lip, “It’s still in the package too. At the ready for your disposal.” He tried. 

It took the man a second to reply and Peter hoped that adding the ‘still in the package’ part would seal the deal for him. 

“Sure, what harm could it do?”

Happy glanced in the bathroom, _considerably_ _a lot,_ he thought to himself as his eyes settled on the pink mold that ringed around the faucet caulk and the deeply stained grout. The bathroom was genuinely clean and he could tell there had been some scrubbing, but it had gone uncared for for too long and areas became unfixable. 

_ It might have even been the previous tenant _ , he had hoped that was the case so he didn’t have the mocking thought in the back of his head that these two were slobs, because they didn’t carry themselves that way. And Peter definitely did not come across as a slob, neither did May. But here he stands, in an apartment that once looked like the aftermath of a frat party. 

Peter handed him the packaged toothbrush after gently shutting the cabinet door, “There’s a trash can right here,” he pointed to the small plastic bin next to the toilet, “And the toothpastes’ right there.” 

Happy nodded and threw the plastic and the thin cardboard package into the trash and rinsed off the toothbrush to brush his teeth. 

Peter patted Happy on the shoulder and went into his room to look for some sleep shorts and a clean t-shirt. Rummaging through his closet, he managed to find a pair of green and multicolor- diamond patterned gym shorts and a plain grey t-shirt that he wasn’t sure he'd worn yet. 

_ Oh _ . 

He snagged a pair of boxers and made his way back to the bathroom where Happy stood finishing up brushing his teeth, “So you  _ were  _ listening.” Happy smirked as he rinsed off the toothbrush and regretfully set it on the bare counter, “I’ll be in the living room, TV still works, yes?”

Peter nodded “The remote should be on the end stand, if not, then maybe check underneath the furniture. I should be quick.”

Happy shrugged and waved him off, “Take as long as you want princess, I’m all good here. Just don’t take  _ forever. _ ”

The kid nodded and shut the door behind him as he set down his clean clothes on the closed toilet seat and grabbed a towel of an ugly chartreuse from underneath the sink. 

_ He should be out there sleeping, not waiting for me. _

Peter thickly swallowed down his guilt and turned on the shower to a warm setting and waited till he was content with the temperature till he stepped in, metal rings rattling -very unpleasantly- on the bar as he pulled the curtain across.  A sensational wave of goosebumps crawled across his pale skin and left him soaking in all the warmth that showered down onto his worked body.

Gravity seemed to weigh on him and all he could think about was wanting to give into his tiredness and crouch down in the tub, hoping that by the time he got out and laid on the couch, he’d actually fall to sleep. He could feel his chest tighten when the thought came across his mind.

_ What if I have a nightmare? _

_ Would I scream and wake him up? _

_ Oh no. no. no. no. no .no _

The stinging sensation picked at Peter’s eyes and his breath began to quicken, “It’s okay, it’s okay, don’t think, don’t think. Don’t sleep. Everything will be fine if you just don’t go to sleep, Peter.”

He kept nodding to himself and ended up in some sort of daze, his hearing became muffled and the throbbing of his fingers pumped against his temples, only increasing in the dissociation he was experiencing. 

_ Awake, awake, y’know how you’ve gotta stay awake. _

He rocked back and forth to the motion of his heart, pushing with his toes against the bottom of the tub. The water from above poured down on him like a storm and the water trickled off his lashes.

“Happy,” he whispered, “Hap…” he trailed off.

_ “Mister Stark.” _ it stung, “What did I, how- when...where did I go wrong? Help me,”

The boy had no clue what was coming out of his mouth, it somehow flowed right out as if his brain was giving into the sweet temptation of- “p’se, I don’... I  _ can’t.”  _ his voice came right from the pit of his throat, no life, just sound.

Peter condensed his sniffling the best he could and tried to calm down but it still felt like someone else was in control. 

_ I’m tired. _

“Tired, is what  _ I  _ am.” he giggled to himself, the strings that somehow attached themselves to him had kept getting pulled from above, whoever it might’ve been, he wanted them to stop toying around, he didn’t like feeling like this. 

_ I have no one to blame here but myself,  _ he decided before he slowly stood up as not to get dizzy.

_ “No it’s not.” _ he rolled his eyes mimicking the stupid things people would say to him, _ “You didn’t have any fault in this. Don’t ever let yourself think otherwise.” _

Peter thought it was complete and utter bullshit but he’d never take it that far when making a point because then they’d just give him a whole nother speech about how wrong he was. Growing up, the only thing he could ever side with was that it was his fault. He learned the hard way that keeping something hidden or lying about something would only make the situation worse because you’d be digging a hole for yourself and then you’d just be waiting to be given a little push. He finally understood what that push was to him.

A push that would ruin him, forcefully shove him beneath the ground and throw dirt in his eyes, slowly suffocating him in the hole he had dug so far away from everyone elses.

Peter wished he had told someone where he had dug his hole into the ground, that way he could ask them to help him fill it back up because it was getting too deep. He didn’t like the dirt though, it was a dark kind of dirt, he should have given it to May or Ben so that they could have kept it safe and colorful, but he never told anyone about hole he had prepared for himself, the dirt he had taken out made space for a new king of dirt, the tainted kind that he didn’t expect to stumble upon.

Peter was forced to lay in his grave for all eternity, not being able to witness the full extent of life, the color it had even in the darkest of shadows. His door of choices had been bolted shut with vibranium.

He wiped the fog off the mirror and dried his hand on the towel that wrapped around his waist just above his hips. He hoped he wasn’t in there too long, Happy must be waiting.

Peter grabbed the t-shirt off the toilet lid and put in on, pulling at it as it stuck to his skin.

“Looking great, Pete.” he scoffed as the dark circles already painted underneath his eyes were vividized, “just fantastic.” his boxers had the same tackiness effect as his shirt and he decided it would be too much of a hassle to put his shorts on too, it would only frustrate him even more.

After draping the towel over the curtain rod he stepped out of the humid bathroom and into the cool air of the apartment, relief smothering his red cheeks.

He turned into the living room to find a half-snoring Happy sprawled across the couch and he was pretty surprised the man was anywhere  _ near  _ the couch with how he was describing it like an abomination only a bit ago. Nonetheless, he was just glad to see Happy was getting some shut eye. 

_ Wonder if he talks in his sleep,  _ Peter smiled to himself and slid the remote gently out of Happy’s hand to turn the TV off. He stepped away to the chair and grabbed the yellow throw blanket that was folded over the back of it and flung it across Happy, yawning as he did so.

Peter was satisfied and continued into his room to shut off his desk light and climb into bed where he planned to stay until the already rising sun was too bright to shut out.

_ I’m so tired.  _

_ I just want sleep, that’s all I ask. _

_ “So you don’t care about whether you wake him up with your nasty shrieking?”,  _ a small voice implied.

_ I- I do care. _

_ “Yet here you are. On your bed with such a smug thought.”,  _ It mocked.

“Stop it.” Peter urges as he plants himself under the covers, “I-I deserve  _ this _ much. At least just  _ once _ .”

_ “Says who?”,  _ the voice was cold and calculating,  _ “Says who?’” _

The voice was right, he hated to admit it but the voice that chose to reveal itself as his inner conscious...was... _ right. _

“No one. He’s gone now.” the boy whispered.

_ I don’t deserve help. I don’t deserve their pity. _

He felt the voice was finally satisfied with his self-loathe because it didn’t speak for the rest of the morning. Peter was able to doze off as he’d hoped. Maybe it was because he finally admitted his worth and it’s lack there of, that this was his reward for knowing his place. If this is what it took for some shut-eye, he could handle it. After all, to Peter, it was a small price to pay for salvation.


	7. What Do I Want? The List is Endless.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry you guys. School is pounding the shit out of me. I spent two or three days re-editing chapters 1-5, I'll be re-uploading them soon. Please don't hate me, ong I haven't stopped thinking about all of you. It means so much to me when I get to read the comments you all leave. It warms my heart. And I hope this chapter isn't too short...  
> Thank you for sticking around :)  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, deepest apologies for any errors.

It was unsettling to say the least when the high pitched chime rang out from somewhere unknown.  It had the teen jerking upright with wide eyes and a shaky breath. He went from nothingness to blaring nails on a chalkboard.

“What the  _ hell. _ ” he groaned as he quickly got up to search for what he assumed was his phone, confused as to why it was going off to start with because he distinctively recalls silencing it after the events of yesterday -or this morning, he still can’t make sense of it.  No matter where he turned, it all sounded the same, his rationality somewhere far off. Then he remembered a glimpse of last night, when Happy tossed his phone onto the bed.  _ It must have fallen off when I got into bed,  _ he thought to himself as he crouched down to see underneath his bed.

_ Lo and behold. _

“There you are.” huffing as he reached for the phone and slapped the orange icon that read ‘stop’. His ears were relieved to be met with the silence once again but his head would only hurt worse once he took a second look at the screen.  He rubbed the phone against his shirt to get rid of the thick layer of dust that accumulated on in over a span of-

“ _ Two hours?!”  _ he freaked when the screen lit up with the time reading ‘6:30’, he looked below and saw that it was Monday, he plopped himself down on the cold floor and tried his best not to pull his hair out in a whining fit.

So, Peter went to sleep around four in the morning and was rudely awakened by his alarm for school, at six-thirty in the morning. Which means he estimatedly had a total amount of two hours of sleep. He’s functioned with less and felt worse while doing it, so he tells himself that he will power through the school day like any other.

Yeah, school. He hasn’t been there in a hot sec.

And of course Peter doesn’t have to go to school, but  _ you _ try telling him that and see where it gets you. The kid hasn’t been to school in a total of four weeks, and has been doing all his work remotely. Speaking of which, Peter probably doesn’t realize tha-

_ It’s all at the Tower,  _ he nibbled his knuckle nervously while peering at the seemingly clean desk,  _ I can’t go to school without my stuff. All my papers, all my supplies, are in my backpack.  _

Of course the first thing for Peter to think of was going back to school! He didn’t have Tony around watching him like a hawk or demanding he shouldn’t go back to school yet because it was a  _ risk _ . Peter could only think of Tony’s precautions as a front, after their argument. Yeah he had a pissy attitude towards Tony, who wouldn’t?

“The Tower. Crapcrapcrap, what am I gonna to  _ do _ ? Common man, are you  _ serious? _ ” He slowly got up and walked to his closet, pushing aside shirts and tossing around socks, hoping to find at least an old notebook and some shaved down pencils that he’d tossed in after ‘cleaning’ his room for May.

Peter plopped his butt on the floor with a wince and stared into his closet. 

The creased and torn blueprints from a previous project peaked back at him through the numerous socks and miscellaneous trinkets. For a kid who’s told to be a genius in the eyes of the richest and smartest man in New York, it’s hard to believe he doesn’t have some baseline school supplies laying around. 

Those blueprints on the other hand, well, there was never a time when he didn’t have some sort of sketch or note pad on him for throwing up all his ideas and inquiries onto a thinly lined piece of paper. He mostly preferred graph paper for obvious reasons, but he stuck with what he had around. 

He didn’t advertise it, but he also wouldn’t deny the more-than-one Stars Wars replicas he tried to construct on his own, with the little variety of parts he got from places he’d rather not disclose. It was a roller coaster of trial and error. Of course everything he tried to make consisted of, and needed,  _ way more  _ advanced equipment than he had access to. The workshop at school couldn’t even compete with the turn-of-the-century equipment, or parts, Mr.Stark has. 

“Crap.”

Peter gathered himself and walked out into the living room where Happy was sprawled across the couch. A needed adjustment slipped into view when he walked around the couch, adjusting the blanket back over Happy’s shoulder. 

“Comfortable?” He joked to himself, a cheeky grin on his face. He didn’t expect a reply and walked off. 

Tapping his fingers on the counter, he contemplated what he should make for breakfast. Peering over the island, he didn’t want to wake the sleeping man so early. But the boy was  _ starving _ . 

He didn’t want it to be true, but tears started to pool in his eyes at the frustration. He sunk to the floor while his hand gripped the counters edge above him. Frustrated at his loss of control.

“Dammit.” he huffed as the tears subsided. If he were to start crying, he would risk the embarrassment of Happy waking up to it. He couldn’t deal with that right now, he was barely hanging on by a thread. 

Hoisting himself back up, he glanced over to make sure Happy was still sound asleep. Peter thanked everything above and quickly, but softly, inched his way into his bedroom. Picking up his phone, he set it on his pile of books that he called his nightstand, and plugged it in to charge. 

When the screen lit up, he saw a notification, from Mr.Stark. A clamp secured itself around Peter's chest. An indescribable feeling of dread accumulated. 

He slowly unblocked his phone, hoping this delusion would quickly fade. But as he stared at his Home Screen, the little red dot still sat atop the icon. And when he clicked again, the beginning of an apology appeared underneath his name. 

_ No no no no no please no. _

The guilt crept into his heart as he stared at the short piece of an even bigger whole. Even though Peter did nothing wrong, it didn’t feel that way in his head _.  _

He had to suck it up though. He couldn’t just leave it in his phone unread, that wouldn’t be fair to Mr.Stark. So without further hesitation, he tapped, and was met with a short blip. Much less than he thought it would be. It was disheartening to see it. 

‘ _ Words can not describe how sorry I am. Please call me whenever you can. _ ’

Calling was a scary thing for Peter, all his emotions were out in the open for the other end to hear. Whether it be his occasional stutter or the inability to hide the quiver in his voice. But Mr.Stark was trying to apologize so Peter couldn’t be so selfish as to not call him. 

He shut his door and plucked the charger out of his phone. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t shaking. 

_ What if he’s in a meeting? _

“Shut up already. No wonder you can’t do any right.” Peter scoffed at his ignorance and pressed the call icon. There’s no going back now. Even if he cancelled the call, Tony would still get the notification. He was trapped again. 

On the third ring, Tony picked up. 

“Pe-”

He hung up before a word was spoken. 

_ I can’t do this, oh my god I’m screwed. Why did I think I could do this? _

Peter took a deep breath and called back. 

Tony answered on the first ring, but there was a pause. 

“...Peter?”

“I’m sorry about that.” Peter whispered, holding his breath with every word. 

“Don’t be sorry bud, it’s okay. I’m glad you called me back.”

The other end was silent. 

“You still there?” He asked, worry perfectly present. 

Tony’s heart wanted to shrivel up. Tony didn’t even know where to start with an apology. He was used to little apologies for ‘stupid stuff’. But he was never equipped with the right materials for what was deemed a  _ real  _ apology. Especially when he was  _ really  _ the one at fault in the matter, when he couldn’t pin the blame on anyone else. 

“Y-es” 

Tony hesitated. What on earth was he going to say to make things right?

“Where are you right now?” He finally spoke. 

Tony could hear the kid trying to speak, his faint ‘ _ I-, uh-,  _ and  _ ah- _ ’ squeaks. 

“The apartment.” Peter whispered. 

_ Okay so he got home safe. _

“Why are you-”

“With Happy.” Peter blurted. 

“-whispering…” Tony dragged a hand down across his face. He was too late, Peter had found comfort in another. Peter was just fine without him, and that hurt. He always wished Peter would rely on him, souly him. It was selfish of Tony, but he didn’t want Peter to leave. He loved the kid so much that he’d do anything to keep him around. And now he’s finally coming to the realization that by doing that, he was slowly tearing their bond apart. 

Tony had gotten comfortable,  _ way too comfortable _ . He felt so encased in their bond that he started to slip. He let himself go bit by bit, seeing how much he could let loose. But he didn’t realize that his actions had consequences. And here he was, trying his damnest to reach into Peter's mind, hoping to coax it into forgiving him. He wanted nothing more than to take back what he said in that fit of rage. 

“He’s still sleeping on the couch. I don’t want to wake him up.” Peter whispered. He wondered what was running through Mr.Stark’s head when he heard him whisper.  _ Was he worried about me? _

_ Possibly,  _ Peter started to tear up. He grumbled under his breath, cursing how sensitive he was. 

“Hmm?”

“Oh, sorry, it was nothing.” he dissed himself, “Sorry.” His whisper was strategic this time around. If he were to raise even an octave, his voice would crack. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your text, sorry, I just woke up early and didn’t see it until later. I  _ would’ve  _ answered it, I swear Mr-

“Hey, hey,  _ hey.  _ It’s alright Peter. You don’t have to apologize for that. I understand, I’ll always understand bud.” Peter could hear the guilt in Tony’s voice, it hurt him just as much as it did Tony. 

“Not everything is your fault, I promise you that. So please don’t feel the need to apologize.” It definitely came of as him being annoyed, which wasn’t the case. 

“The tone was a little wonky for that, bad on my part. But I’m not annoyed, concerned more than anything actually.” He defended. He was waiting for a reply after his back to back comments. 

Peter was processing, concocting, revising. 

“You’re fine Mr.Stark, don’t worry about it.”

“But I do kid, just look at what happened. I have to worry. It’s my job as your…” he trailed off. Has there ever been a label on their relationship? 

No, a label would make it seem small. The bond they had was indescribable. 

“It’s my job to worry about you. You’re just a kid.” He paused, “ and no, I don’t think of you as  _ just _ a kid, you’re so much more than that Peter. But it’s the truth. You  _ are  _ a kid, a kid who needs stability. And sadly, that’s not the current circumstance.” 

The burning sensation in Peter’s chest was growing with every word he heard. It was hard to focus on what Mr.Stark was saying. Peter wanted to jump out of his skin because he couldn’t work the courage to speak up and say what he wanted to say. 

“Hence why I need to make things right between us. Because neither of us need that mess in our lives right now. I know you already have enough on your plate, and I respect that, so please Peter, you have to let me fix this.” Tony took a deep breath and held it. 

Tony was not going to beat around the bush this time. He needed to get straight to the point so he didnt end up saying something stupid that would backtrack the entire thing. Sometimes his reappearing comments would make it seem like he couldn’t think of anything better to enlighten the situation. Which, let’s be honest, happened more than it should have. He uses his hands, not his words. He’s a mechanic, not a poet. He specializes in technology, not psychology. You get the point. 

“Do you maybe want to- like I’m not sure, you can come over to the like apartment and stuff like that. I don’t know, i-it’s up to you.” 

Tony pulled the phone away and exhaled until he couldn’t any more. 

“That sounds great bud, but, are you sure? You might want to sit on it.” He offered, “that’s a big step, y’know.”

Peter took the time to  _ really _ think about it with that in mind. He didn’t want to waste any time. He needed Tony, and no one could tell him different. But the same thought kept circling back around.  _ What if the same thing happens. What if I tick him off somehow, what’s gonna happen then? _

He’s stuck between wanting to say ‘ _ you’re right, it is a big step and I’m not ready for it yet, I still need time _ ’ and ‘ _ you’re right, I should just drop it because if I don’t we won’t be the same again _ ’. 

Peter pulled the phone away to look at the screen, making sure the call was still going through. He didn’t know if he could work up the courage to say it. 

“I…” he placed the phone to his ear, “you- do you...what d-do you want?” He asked in a regular volume. His voice wasn’t wavering like it was before, it tired itself out. Mr.Stark was genuinely worried about Peter, his tone was soft and cautious, Peter’s subconscious perceived it as comfort. 

“What do  _ I  _ want?” Tony asked in disbelief, “You’re asking  _ me- _ ” he trailed off. Tony Stark wanted a lot of things. But none of them he could ever say aloud, it’d ruin his reputation as a hardass. 

This was no longer about what Tony wanted, it was about what Peter wanted. About what Peter  _ needed _ . And Tony needed to figure out exactly what that would be. 

Tony had  _ scared  _ Peter. It was almost foreign to him. He brought many things to the table for Peter; an internship, a taste of the sweet life, a father figure, and simplicity. But he never  _ ever _ thought he would bring  _ fear  _ to the table. The feeling he brought that would cause Peter to think he had to walk on eggshells in his presence. 

Tony had scared him so badly the kid needed Happy to spend the night at the apartment with him.  _ Just in case.  _

How can one fix that? Time. Time and trust. Both of which Tony had eradicated. Time was no longer tellable and trust was no longer sellable. It was down to the earnest truth, there was no space for lies or fibs. If this was going to work, they would have to show themselves inside and out.

This was not the first time Tony had truly struck Peter, come to think of it. But he hoped it would be the last. Between the bedroom scenario, the kitchen bitchin’, and the late night phone call, Peter had his fair share of a furiated Tony Stark. And Tony had his fair share of regret. 

The terrible feeling that one would have to live with, knowing what they did was wrong,  _ knowing _ they could have intervened, but decided not to. Ominous guilt would become the bane of his existence. Tony was not about to be stuck with that burden, one which could never be lifted from his conscience, along with the many others. 

“I want to know what  _ you  _ want.” He confirmed. The chance that Peter would come forth was unbelievably low. Peter’s never one to trouble another. Intentionally, that is. Who knows how many times Tony was on the verge of an aneurysm. I’ll give you a hint, how many stars are in the galaxy. 

“Oh come  _ on.  _ That’s not fair, I don’t even know!” The boy grumbled. He hated this game. “I would have said it if I knew.” 

There was a long pause on the other end. A suspiciously long pause. 

“...No I wouldn’t have.”

Tony grinned, “No, you would have not.”

A rosy tint lit up Peter’s face, annoyed that Mr.Stark knew it to be true. 

A soft chuckle was heard on the other end. It had Peter smiling. He missed that laugh. He missed everything about Mr.Stark. 

“Hah...that’s too good, kid. Every time!” Tony said matter of factly. A smile held true to both their faces. Tony took a second to soak up the good energy, hoping to keep it flowing. 

“You should visit sometime.” The boy said in the midst of things. “We could go out to eat!” He exclaimed. Things were feeling normal. It was going so well. 

_ I’m scared.  _

“That sounds like a wonderful idea kiddo. The trio bands together once more. How about we go for something greasy? I could kill for a burger right about now.” He exclaimed. 

_ I’m anxious.  _

The thought of doing something so casual sparked joy in Peter, but at the same time, the truth started to bring him back down to reality. Even if the things they would be doing were the same as what they used to be, the mentality that each of them carried would be totally different. 

“When?” He mumbled. 

_ How quickly do I have to prepare myself?  _

“Well it’s definitely too early right now. I’ll have to fixate my burger appetite onto some eggs and toast. Pepper would be down my throat if she saw me hacking away at a burger at…” he glanced to the clock, “ seven in the morning, damn.”

_ Oh! _

Peter’s brain refreshed him on the topic of his belongings being at the tower. What could he say that wouldn’t come across as ‘the only reason I’m keeping this call going is because I need my stuff back and you won’t shut up for two second to let me ask.’

Of course that’s not how he felt, but what if that’s what Mr.Stark thought he felt? Peter didn’t want any miscommunication, especially when it came to ‘do you possibly have an ulterior motive’. Because there has been many times Peter thought Mr.Stark had an ulterior motive because he was unaware of the real meaning behind the action and/or words. 

“Mr.Stark?” 

“Yahuh?”

“My uhm, my- I left my-my stuff. My backpack is with you at the tower.” His gut churned as he finished his sentence. The anxiety that pestered him throughout this call was growing stronger. Scared for what would come across the other end, he was quick to mumble an apology, “I’m really sorry.” 

The reason why he left it there would bring them both back to the harsh realization of why they’re talking through the phone as well, instead of in-person. Peter regretted ever bringing it up. He should have just ended it where it was. 

_ I should have shut up.  _

“No worries, I’ll take it with me when I swing by later. I’m sure your teachers won’t mind since you’re currently ahead of everybody else. Take the leisure, Pete, trust me! Give Credit where credit is due.” The man said proudly. 

Tony loved to brag about how smart his kid was. Especially to Pepper, he’d always catch her in the middle of something important. Whatever it may be, it wasn’t important enough to silence Tony's endless babbling. Pepper loved to hear about Peter’s successes. However, one of the many things she didn’t particularly love to hear was when Peter succeeded at something she advised him against. 

“Yeah uh, thanks. I appreciate it.” Peter felt the itch to hang up. His stomach wasn’t staying quiet anymore. He was  _ so  _ hungry. 

_ Ow.  _

“No problem bud.” He paused, resuming shortly after, “well I’m gonna have to let you go, Pete. I’ve got some stuff I have to catch up on, some corporate bullshit. How about I text you later, yeah?” The man offered. 

With an affirmative hum from the opposite end, that was that. They said their goodbyes and Tony hung up. 

_ Was…why did he hang up first? Did I do something wrong? _

“Dude...chill out. Someone had to end the call you idiot.” 

Peter dragged a hand up his face and gathered himself. His arms and legs weighed him down like lead, they contracted and constricted his movements.

His heart was pounding and his hands were shaking. 

“Hah...that wasn’t so bad.” He whispered through his teeth. 

_ That was so bad.  _

Peter walked back into the kitchen, surprised to see Happy still dead asleep. He couldn’t help but smile widely at the man who helped him through the night. He mouthed a quick thank you, hoping Happy knew just how much he meant to Peter. How much  _ both _ of them meant to Peter. 

He reached into the fridge to pull out a water bottle. Overjoyed to see it wasn’t in one of the drawers. Twisting the cap off with a quite crack, he guzzled half of it, easing up when the bottle started to crinkle. 

“Gah- phew...that hits the spot.” He felt less empty, even though the hunger still lingered. 

Peter made his way over to the chair that sat positioned next to the couch. Setting the bottle down on the coffee table, he peered over at the older man's face. It looked peaceful, but full of tension at the same time. He felt so lucky right now. 

That was until the movement from the older man had stopped. That’s when Peter felt a pang in his chest. 

Uhm, wait. Wait hold on. When was the last time…

The boy sprung up and shot his hand out to the man's shoulder, gripping it tightly. 

“This can’t be happening. No, please no, please Happy. Come on, come on!”

He began shaking the man violently, fearful of the limp manner. 

_ I can’t. I can’t. Please don’t do this to me.  _

Finally, with a blood curdling scream, the man beneath him jolted back, raising his hands in defense. 

Peter let out a burning sigh. His heart was beating out of his chest and his blood pressure was through the roof, literally skyrocketed. He let out a shaky breath and wiped the hot tears from his face. 

“Are you okay?” The boy exclaimed. Digging his nails into his sweaty palms. The older man stared back at him, his breath hitched and his hands tightly gripping on the blanket that was half covering his tense body. 

“Am I okay?” He sassed, “You just shook the _ life out of me.  _ What is it, are you alright? God Peter, don’t  _ do that _ !” He was startled, and a little bit annoyed too at the sudden intrusion. The kid just stared down at him, face riddled with confusion. But the little bead of sweat that trickled down his temple hinted more towards concern. 

The man was finally catching his breath as the kid caught up to his own. 

Happy scrunched his nose, pushing a hand up his forehead. “Hello~ are you gonna say something?” 

Instant regret set in when the man heard nothing but muttered apologies, and excuses along the lines of ‘I thought you were dead’ and ‘you weren’t answering’ and ‘I was worried about you’. Yeah, worried enough to send him into cardiac arrest. 

“I’m so sorry, please don’t be mad! You're the one playing dead!” The boy defended, still pressing his nails deeply into his skin. His eyes flickered among the displays of distress. A pang in his chest each time. Although he never stayed looking, his gaze always ended up at the arm of the couch. 

“Wh- I was  _ not  _ playing  _ dead.  _ Do you think that little of me? Damn kid, I’m not five.” The man complained, “But what I am is a grumpy old man who needs his sleep.” He took in a deep breath. 

“M’ s’rry” it was below a whisper, inaudible if Happy hadn’t been listening for a response in the first place. 

“I-...don’t get all sad on me. Come on, back it up,” he paused while Peter resituated himself, “ it’s time to eat. My stomach is crawling out of me.” He continued, “ and I doubt you’ve already managed to make something for yourself. Hop to it.” Happy gestured towards the kitchen, hinting to the kid that he has no clue where anything is. 

Peter smiled and made his way to the kitchen to pull together something edible for the both of them. The weight from earlier slowly made its way elsewhere, leaving him with contentment as he popped the bread into the toaster and pulled the butter out of the upper cabinet. There were only a few eggs left in the carton, which he was fine with. He’s not a big fan of eggs, nor the coppery taste that comes along with them. 

_ Bleh...I can’t be the only one who can taste it, _ he thought while pulling three eggs from the carton, returning the rest back to the fridge. 

He knew the older man would hound down a whole stack of pancakes in less than five minutes, that in mind, he reached back into the fridge and pulled out a fourth egg.  _ That’s a lot of eggs, maybe I should just add more toast instead,  _ he thought as he huddled the eggs together on the counter, trying to keep them from rolling off and making a mess on the floor. At this point, Happy was standing next to the counter, happily watching Peter’s every move towards making a filling breakfast. 

Peter shied away. He always messed up  _ something _ when he was being observed. His brain couldn’t function normally when the focus was on him. “More toast?” He gestured with the two slices of bread. The older man held his index finger up while trying to cover up his extended yawn that reeked of morning breath, even from a good distance it was potent. “Roger that. Don’t forget to brush your teeth when you’ve finished eating.” He muttered passively, “you can turn on the tv and sit down, it’s gonna be a few minutes.” 

Happy grinned at the kid and made his way over, “You sound like May.” He said sweetly, “it’s a nice change of pace.”

Peter giggled, “Hey now, I’m not Aunt May, don’t start hitting on me!” The older man rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath.

Little did Peter know, he had lifted a huge weight off of Happy’s chest. Happy expected to wake up and have to encourage the teenager to get out of bed and start the day while dragging him by his feet. But instead he was greeted by the boy instead. Maybe not in the  _ best way possible _ , but it still gave him hope that things could turn around sooner than he’d thought. 

But then again, even he's had his fair share of bad days leading into bad nights, and when he wakes up he feels fresh as a daisy, even though the thoughts still linger. He wondered if that was the case with Peter. He still felt everything he did before, but it’s less heightened due to the brain being able to shut down while he slept. Peter had gotten over the hump from last night and now he’s bleeding into the next day carrying less with him.

Happy could hear himself exhale shakily,  _ He always has it worse,  _ his brain told him _.  _ He could hear the faint click of the toaster while he swam in his head, only coming back when his stomach rumbled.

——

Peter thanked everything above for the fact he used paper plates, because after breakfast he had no desire to stand over the sink and scrub dishes. He’d already dealt bad enough with Happy’s take on ‘dietary requirements’ for a high metabolized individual. 

Him and Tony had that part in common. Except Tony’s way of expressing his worry about Peter’s health was putting aside a whole cook-book with high calorie and protein intake recipes. Well maybe not a whole  _ book,  _ but with the amount of pages Peter’s watched Tony flip though late at night, it definitely fits the principle. Peter smiles every time he imagines Pepper over Tony’s shoulder, coaching him through what would be acceptable. Pepper never failed to give Tony a taste of his own medicine.

They were the perfect mixture. Just the right amount of sugar and spice, and a little bit of something extra, no one could deny them.

The day might be bearable in a sense for Peter. No sorrow stricken fits or intrusive thoughts. Just the warmth of the sun and the kind nature of the company within the apartment.


End file.
